


Blood of the Oceans: Genesis

by avengerandxman



Series: Blood of the Oceans-verse [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Aliens, And You Have Issues!, Animals, Blood and Gore, F/M, Gen, Not Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie) Compliant, Not Thor: The Dark World Compliant, Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s), Other, Siblings That Fuck With Each Other But Still Love Each Other, Team as Family, Veterinary Clinic, You Have Issues!, everyone has issues!, how is that not a tag yet, not the nice kind
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-27
Updated: 2019-05-16
Packaged: 2019-08-29 22:23:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 16
Words: 29,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16752565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avengerandxman/pseuds/avengerandxman
Summary: In a world of aliens and infinitely cooler Tin Men than whatever L. Frank Baum could come up with, Katherine North's life is about as normal as it can get.Then one day a slightly batty old lady calls her a Savior. Things only go downhill from there.Now, she has to prevent Earth from getting colonized by a homicidal alien race, deal with the fact that she is actually a prophesied superhero, and keep her little brother in line.What could go wrong?





	1. ACCESS GRANTED

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first story and also first series on this site. Self-betaed. All mistakes are mine.
> 
> Content warning: implied rape, death baiting, sexism, racism, all of the mean phobias (homophobia, biphobia, etc.), anti-Semitism, actual death, blood, guts-
> 
> Oh, and a dog dies.
> 
> You have been warned.

Writing is hard. A blanket statement that is as simple as "water is wet" to those who actually take on the task. The writers reading this are probably screaming "no shit, Sherlock!" right about now. I completely agree. Normal writing is ridiculously difficult, as all dedicated scribes know. My earlier statement might sound oblivious, obvious, or both, if you took it out of context. 

Sure, normal writing is hard enough. But when the writing in question is about the years of stress, PTSD, and trauma you've accumulated as a superhero, and you'll probably end up on the news if you don't write it to let those things out, it becomes damn near impossible.

Let the record show that I didn't want to do this at first. I went to a therapist after much coaxing and potentially some bribes. Didn't go so well for either of us. The poor therapist ended up being the one having to go to another therapist. It would be ironic, but I'm not going to make that joke. We both came out of that experience worse off than we were before, and it would be insensitive to mock him for it.

This was the second option, or Steve would keep giving me his "Captain America is Disappointed in You" face, against which nothing could stand for long. It wasn't like it would ever see the eyes of the general public, either. Natasha had made sure of that. For a superspy and assassin who dumped all of SHIELDRA's files onto the Internet, it was easy as pie to hide a single series of documents on the dark web.

If you have come to this URL, you are either allowed to read this document or not. If you are, congratulations! Both the Black Widow and I trust you. Don't screw it up.  


If you're not, all this URL will get you is the Google dinosaur game (you know which one) no matter how hard you try. Thank Clint for that, Natasha was more of the "fry your entire computer" mindset. 

Clint said I'm monologuing too much here. He's right. Still, screw you Clint for making me dive right into it. I'm Katherine Wood. That's not technically my real name, but we'll come to that soon enough. I'm a Russian immigrant, a big sister, and an Avenger. This is the start of my story.


	2. Chapter 2

It all started when I nearly ran someone over.

Not with a car, though. For one thing, I didn’t have my learner’s permit yet, even though I was sixteen. I didn’t really want to drive a metal box that could kill someone if I screwed up. For another, I much preferred biking from place to place. It was inexpensive, fun, and relatively safe if you knew what you were doing.

Anyway, I was biking home from the library one June afternoon when it happened. I’d had a fun-filled afternoon reading, spending hours and hours lost in a world of literature. I had eclectic tastes, ranging from Catch-22 to Carrie, Harry Potter to the Hobbit. Even if my real life sucked (which it sadly did), books could always lift my spirits.

My bike was dirt cheap, could only go fast if you went down hills, and squealed like a stuck pig when the brakes were pushed. But it was sturdy, and could easily carry the many books I took home from the library. That was what counted.

I was stuck in my own head as I ascended the hill, mulling over a problem I’d been having for weeks now. Problem seemed to be putting it kindly, now that I thought about it. It was more like a huge dilemma that would determine who I was as a person.

Ever since I was little, I’d always been perceptive. I noticed details others didn’t, identified plants and animals at a glance, and recognized faces even if I’d only seen the person once before. It wasn’t quite like a suit of armor or super-soldier serum, but it was pretty damn close to a superpower. 

I’d relied on my perception skills for years, which was why it was so jarring when I began to question what I saw.

Just after Sokovia fell, during the first week of June, things began to get weird. A boy who looked just like my brother watched him from behind a bush, vanishing into thin air when I yelled at him. Strangers stared at me wherever I went, their eyes lingering on my face for an uncomfortably long time. Both the animals I’d known for years and ones I’d never met snarled and snapped at me, their features distorted with an almost inhuman rage.

Whenever I asked people if they’d seen what I’d seen, they dismissed me or laughed it off. You’re just being paranoid. You’re petting him the wrong way. Clones don’t exist, this isn’t Star Wars. A cute boy staring at you? You should be flattered.

They were wrong. I knew what I’d seen wasn’t normal. But I had no way to prove it.

What was I supposed to do? Keep telling people what I saw, and be carted off to an insane asylum? Even in a world with superheroes, that was still the likely outcome. If an impossible thing was seen by many people, like the New York attack, everyone knew about it. An impossible thing only I knew about? I’d be at a severe disadvantage proving myself to be sane, let alone believable.

Or should I bite my tongue, and watch as whatever it was became an actual threat? Whatever the phenomena were, they sure as hell weren’t friendly, and they didn’t seem inclined to get up and go away. It was going to get worse before it got better. If I kept silent, I’d be squandering any advance warning I could give.

I swore loudly and creatively, probably destroying the innocence of any nearby baby birds. I was damned if I did and damned if I didn’t. 

Suddenly, a hunched figure stepped into the street, a blue and white shawl draped over her back. My eyes widened. Maybe she didn’t see me, or maybe I was just stupid, but I was going to have the dubious honor of the first bicycle hit-and-run if I didn’t do something fast.

“MA’AM, GET DOWN!”

I yelled a warning at the top of my lungs, frantically jerking the handlebars to the side. My bike responded, slewing to the right until it hit the curb with a loud thud. The impact sent me flying forward, introducing my stomach to someone else’s front lawn with extreme prejudice.

I lay there for a moment, the wind completely knocked out of me. I tried to do a good deed and ended up getting a belly flop onto the ground for my trouble. As if I didn’t have a bad enough life already. No, I just had to get screwed over and/or ignored for doing the right thing for the 957th time in a row.

Then I pinched myself. No. Bad Katherine. Being a good person didn’t need rewards. The reward was doing something good for someone else. That was what Captain America would say.

Captain America lives luxuriously on Tony Stark’s dime, another part of my brain went.

Shut up, I told it.

I hoped that the woman was okay. She looked like a senior, maybe she’d wandered out of a nursing home. In that case, people would probably appreciate her not having tire tracks on her face.

As if on cue, somebody poked me in the side. I glanced up, only to see the woman I’d barely avoided hitting. She looked to be about in her sixties, with wild black hair threaded with silver and a wrinkled light brown face. A long gray dress fell all the way to the road. I couldn't place her ethnicity, though. Iranian, maybe? Native American?

She drew her shawl over her head before offering a gloved hand. Some older ladies liked to be proper, so it wasn't that much of a surprise to see her wearing mitts. I took it, surprised at her strength. With her help, I was able to get to my feet.

“Thank you,” I stammered. “I’m so sorry I almost hit you, I swear I usually look where I’m going-”

“I should be thanking you. Are you not the Savior?”

That threw me for a loop. The only time I'd heard Savior used in everyday conversation was in relation to Christianity. I was not Jesus, nor did I really want to be. Jesus had to deal with persecution, armed soldiers coming after him and his friends, forty days and nights in the desert, crowns of thorns, the fact that a convicted murderer mattered more than him, and being hung on a cross until he died. Sure, he came back afterwards, but that didn't mean it would hurt like hell. No pun intended. Plus, if I was in the same scenario, my lack of divine blood would likely mean I didn't get a do-over. The Bible didn't lie, even though I saw it as more of a how-to guide than divine Scripture. Being the Son of God sucked.

I wasn't going to say that, though. In every fairy tale I'd read, the rude person gets heavily punished by the powerful being or by conveniently placed karma. Disney might have skimmed over that little detail, but the originals didn't lie. The Evil Queen in Snow White was forced to dance in red-hot shoes until she died. Depending on the version, Lady Tremaine and her daughters either cut parts of their feet off to fit the shoe (they still fail) or get their eyes plucked out by birds at the wedding. The mean sister has toads and other reptiles fall out of her mouth in Toads and Diamonds, ruining the rest of her life and possibly giving her a horrible case of salmonella.

My chest still felt like a deflated balloon from the rough lawn landing. No way was I risking being turned into a toad or thrown out of a medieval tower or anything like that. One painful experience at a time, please and thank you.

"I'm not sure what you're talking about, ma'am. Could you please give me a little more detail?"

"So you don't know." The woman made a soft oh of comprehension. "This must be terribly confusing for you. My apologies. However, we do not have much time."

Okay, that wasn't ominous at all. That was the sort of thing spies and Quentin Tarantino characters said, usually followed by a hail of gunfire or an improbably large explosion. Neither of those would be great in a residential neighborhood, to say nothing of the fact that I really didn't want to get dragged into something like this. Unfortunately, an old lady had asked for my help. I was obligated to aid her to the best of my ability. You can blame Steve Rogers and his PSA videos, my ridiculously moral parents, and being a longtime devotee of the Avengers for that. Even if I'd jump into this mess kicking and screaming, I had to do something. I was stupid like that.

That didn't mean I had to go in uninformed. Or unquestioning.

"You're kind of freaking me out here. Who are you, what do you want, and why do you seem to think I can do anything about it?"

"You don't understand. You are capable of more than you think you are-"

"Let me stop you right there. I know what I'm not capable of, which is likely what you're asking me to do. I am approximately sixteen. My muscles and my brain are still relatively undeveloped and I'm prone to freaking out in situations involving mortal peril. Running long distances makes me want to puke my guts out. The little driving skills I do have come from watching people play Mario Kart. I can't fire a gun or throw a knife. Fighting ability? I don't have it. I can throw a punch and a groin kick. The probability that they hit anything is a thousand to one."

"The things I am capable of are sarcasm, research, and copious amounts of knowledge about superheroes, pop culture, history, and animals. If you need to find out who was the first person to die in the Alien movies? I'm your girl. A detailed rant about why we shouldn't pit women against each other, even fictional ones? Give me an hour and a bag of jelly beans. Passionate arguing about why every single one of the Avengers really needs psychiatric help? Look no further."

I sighed. Not for the first time, I wished I was someone else. Someone who could do something instead of trying and failing over and over again.

"I can't help you. At least not effectively. Will I try? Absolutely. Will I succeed? The Magic 8 Ball says nope."

The woman stared at me for a long moment. I tensed, prepared for disintegration or some other furious display of magic. Her hopes had just been dashed, what reason would she have to not take it out on me?

Then she did something totally unexpected. She started laughing. Real, busting-a-gut, tear-inducing laughter. It got to the point where I was nervous that she would fall over, she was bent over so low.

"Ma'am, are you all right?"

She let out a few more chuckles before rising to her feet. "Yes. It's just that this is the funniest response I have gotten. You are definitely the one."

The next few things happened so fast, I nearly missed them. In one fluid movement, she yanked off her glove, tossed it to the ground, and grabbed my arm with a force no old lady could muster.

"Hey, what the-"

An arc of light snapped through my body with the force of a bullwhip, and suddenly I was surrounded by water. It was seeping into my skin, my nose, my mouth, my eyes, washing away any bone or flesh or anything that I once was. It washed into my blood, driving it out of my body and replacing it with drops of water and the purest cold. It was so cold I could't feel it, just a sense of something that should have been there but wasn't. My bones were ice, my skin was frost, water was within me and my blood was now the blood of the oceans.

I wasn't human anymore. I wasn't breathing, my heart wasn't beating. I was a force of nature. I was a brace of hurricanes near the Bahamas, a rainstorm in Seattle, a tsunami in the Philippines, a blizzard in Volgograd, sleet in London, puddles in Topeka, the Atlantic and the Pacific and the Indian and the Caribbean and the Mediterranean. I could feel each drop, tell when each wave will hit, know in my core how many inches has fallen and when it will stop or lessen or increase.

It all flowed through me. Water and ice and cold and freefall and flips and screams and malice and solemn vows and years of war and legacy and rebirth and death and sea creatures and aliens and blood and pain and ships and the everpresent feeling of danger-

That's when I woke up.

I was lying on the ground, only halfway there, trembling without any sign of stopping. I didn't know that I could If I wanted to. It's a battle to keep my eyes open, one that I was swiftly losing.

The woman was no longer there. A tall, thin being had taken her place. It studied me with curiosity and compassion. Instinctively, I knew the woman and the alien were one and the same.

Words met my ears. I couldn't hear them, only sense them as they came near me. My being absorbed them, akin to my eidetic memory but on a much deeper level.

"I must leave now, but do not lose hope. You are right."

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Minor spoilers for Captain Marvel below. You have been warned.

I don't remember much after that, unless the eternal darkness of the void counts. Which means I was probably unconscious. That, or experiencing another vision quest that I had no idea how to translate.

When I woke up again, I was back in my room.

Given what had happened, you'd think I would be rational about yet another escalation in craziness.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH!"

I flailed, fell off the bed, and started cursing a blue streak when my shin hit the dresser. The Chosen One, ladies and gentlemen.

My room looked exactly the same as it had when I left, the only difference being the afternoon light coming through the windows. I gave everything a cursory glance, a ball of nerves sitting in my stomach.

Bed pushed up against the far wall, patched blankets in a tangled mess on top of it. Dresser that cost far more than it should next to the window that gave a clear view of the street. Yard sale desk on the other side of the room, cluttered with dollar store notebooks and writing implements filched from students I didn’t particularly like. If you like tripping people in the hallway and inconveniencing them, you’ll be inconvenienced by the loss of a pen or two.

Large cardboard box liberated from outside an appliance store filled with books, many of them old and worn. I accepted books as well as money for pet-sitting, and had managed to get quite a collection out of people unwilling to pay with cash. Their stinginess was my gain.

I rose to my feet, doing a mental checkup as I did so. Scrapes on my shins, but those are easy to explain. Small injuries have more ways they could happen. Chest area still hurt a lot. That was bad. Hopefully there were no broken ribs. Those would require wrappings, which would bring up questions and eventually a super expensive hospital visit. I couldn't have that.

Why, you might ask. Wouldn’t you want to go to a doctor? Well, if you haven’t guessed it yet, my family is pretty poor. My mom is a vet tech, but she has enough experience to run the animal hospital where she works. The problem is, she isn’t shy about making her opinions known, and has gotten in trouble for chewing out a bad owner or doctor way more times than I can count. They can’t fire her, because she’s way too good at her job for them to let go, but she gets paid chicken feed for her work and never gets promoted.

My dad is a criminal defense lawyer, and has a habit of taking pro bono cases way too much. Yes, his clients need him, and yes, they often have a reason they can’t pay, but would it kill him to realize that we need money too? He also doesn’t take the cases of people he doesn’t like, such as mob bosses and the like, no matter how much money they offer. One time, a former drug dealer offered him a ludicrous amount to testify for him. Dad told him to get the hell out of his office.

Sighing, I resisted the urge to kick my dresser. Out of all the people in the world to pick, why did it have to be the person who was poor as shit, had a terrible love life, and would probably fail epically at whatever I was asked to do?

A knock on my door nearly sent me to the floor again. That couldn't be right! Nobody was home! Mom was out, Dad was out, Danny was-

Oh, shit. Danny was not out. Danny had no job, and thus had no reason to be out.

Fuck me with a rusty chainsaw.

He looked just as annoyed as I thought he would be when I opened the door. Ice blue eyes narrowed at me, his signature smirk discarded in favor of a grumpy frown.

I tried to put on a winning smile. "Hey, Danny boy! To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Cut the act. We need to talk."

Danny didn't wait for me to answer, instead ducking past me into my room. He flopped onto my bed, spearing me with a glare.

“You never get home this fast from the library. Either you attached a jet engine to your bike, or something else is going on.”

I cursed, earning me a raised eyebrow from Danny. My little brother might be a massive pain, and not just in the ass, but he was just as smart as I was. Maybe smarter, if we counted his computer wizardry.

I knew he wouldn’t let this go until he got an answer out of me. I also knew that I did not want to give him one. No way was I getting him involved with something I had so little information about. All I knew was that it was likely dangerous, and that alone made me want to lock him in my closet until the whole thing blew over.

"Let it go, Danny. For your own sake."

"For my own sake, I'm gonna do the exact opposite of that." My brother leaned forward, poking my shorts with a bent finger. "Hey, what's this?"

"Get off!" I tried to push him to the side, but he was too fast. His hand darted into my right pocket and pulled out something completely strange.

It was about the size of an egg, eye-blindingly silver, and shaped like a marble. A ring of light blue dots blinked and beeped, casting a cheery periwinkle glow onto the walls. Whatever it was, it had not been there before I went to the library. Not only was it way too weird for me to forget I had it, I never put things in my pockets when I went biking. That was just asking for something important to go flying out.

Thuye had to have something to do with it. It looked alien, had been slipped into the pocket of the person she chose, and was the same shade of blue she had been. The last thought was probably a stretch, but still. The Chitauri had flying vehicles the same color they were, who's to say the race she belonged to, whatever it was, didn't have the same trend?

"Oh my God, it's a thermal detonator! Is Star Wars real? If you saw any Jedi or stormtroopers and didn't tell me I'll never forgive you-"

"Danny." I pinched the bridge of my nose. "Please put down the alien technology."

"Wait, how do you know it's alien?"

"Does it look like it came from Silicon Valley?" Thank Thor that I'd learned how to lie convincingly. Not lie, per se, but bend the truth. Better that than being called crazy for the ninety-fifth time.

"Fair point."

My brother poked at the alien thing again, and it started to hum. It began softly, but gradually got louder and louder. When it flickered, then glowed brighter, I knocked the silver sphere out of his hands, pulling him to the far side of the bed as it clattered to the floor.

"Hey!"

I ignored his protest, tugging a blanket over us as the sphere glowed brighter than any light I'd ever seen. I had no intention of going blind, thank you very much.

Then the light dimmed, and a familiar voice rang out.

"Apologies for the light show. I don't have enough components to make the awakening bearable."

Throwing off the blanket, I stared into Thuye's face. The sphere had a large blue circle on top of it, and from the glowing circle it projected a hologram of the alien woman I'd met earlier today. She had shed her human disguise, revealing light blue skin, an arched and twisted back, and silver-tipped navy tentacles protruding from her arms, hands, and scalp. Her eyes remained the same in both forms, pitch black orbs filled to the brim with deep intelligence.

"Are you an alien, and is this pre-recorded or live?"

Like I said, my brother is a computer wizard. He could probably work for Tony Stark if he ever got the chance. Alien technology and someone to ask about it? This was heaven for him.

"I suppose you would call it live. My race calls it present. At least, in Terran we would. But of that tomorrow. If there is one.”

Thuye turned to Danny, her face deadly serious. “Daniel, do you remember when your sister appeared to tackle a bush?”

I shivered, the full memory of the event chilling me to the bone. After the clone had vanished, he’d reappeared on the side of the yard, crouching in an azalea bush right behind Danny. I threw myself at him, only to get hurled into the side of the house like I was a paper doll. He disappeared again, leaving me to try and explain the whole thing to my brother.

“Yeah. I thought she was going nuts when she said that a clone of me was watching me.” 

“She was right. And if she had not gone on the offensive, it would likely have killed you.”

”Killed him?” My voice sounded very small. “So when you said I was right about these occurrences being abnormal and hostile-“

”I spoke the truth. But I suppose it is best to start from the beginning.”

“I am an alien, a subrace of the Kree called the Kelozyn. We disagreed with our sister race about many things, and so we left for our own planet. We were happy there, until the Zhiradji came."

A new picture appeared next to Thuye, and both Danny and I flinched. The creature was humanoid at the most primitive level, but there the similarities ended. It was at least six feet tall with a barrel chest, but had a sleek and wiry frame, clearly built for both speed and strength. Dark green scales, like a crocodile's, covered its entire body. Powerful hands and feet ended in wicked-looking claws, matching the many rows of razor-sharp teeth it had. The sharklike teeth were set in a mouth that looked powerful enough to give the Tasmanian Devil's bite force a run for its money. A pair of pointy ears looked rather out of place at first glance, but then I realized the thing could probably hear like a bat. Combined with four sets of eyes with no pupils-two where you'd expect them to be, two smaller ones directly above the first two-and a snout with two big nostrils, the alien would be able to sense and follow anything that opposed it.

Oh, bad thought.

"The first blow in the Kree-Skrull war was dealt shortly after the Kelozyn left Hala, with a devastating attack on a prominent Skrull. Meant to keep the recently colonized planet in line, the Kree ambush instead claimed the lives of the Skrull’s wife and children. The Skrulls retaliated by slaying their Kree governor, declaring their independence from the Kree Empire. Since then, the two races have been at war for centuries. But in the first days of the war, Ba'zorr didn't just want to win. He wanted revenge as well."

"Gathering together several like-minded Skrulls, and one turncoat Kree scientist, Ba'zorr began to plot and plan. With the help of some test subjects, the mad ambassador created Skrulls with all the qualities of Earth's most feared predators, enhanced shifting abilities, and an unyielding desire to kill and conquer. The weaponized Skrulls worked perfectly, decimating Kree after Kree. Then it all went wrong."

"The problem with using a race as weapons, even one that you have created, is that all races change. And that change would not be to Ba'zorr's benefit."

"Ba'zorr began to treat the weaponized Skrulls like slaves, realizing that he had to keep the weapons in line. However, he grew overconfident, and one day began to taunt them. They were his, he said. That would prove to be a fatal mistake."

"Skrulls, even weaponized ones, are very clever. It wasn't until his lost daughter bit his head off that Ba'zorr knew his slaves had escaped."

Danny turned a vivid shade of green.

"They decimated the Skrull homeworld, Kree and Skrull alike. It was only by destroying Skrullos that the Kree were able to prevent the new race from turning to Hala. But even that would only be a minor setback. All the weaponized Skrulls escaped the planet's destruction, killing a massive portion of the survivors. In doing so, they gained the name that would be feared from galaxy to galaxy. Zhiradji, the Skrull word for death."

"Years later, my great-great-granduncle's beloved saw a Kree cruiser land. He was the first to die. My great-grandfather and grandmother fled, the only survivors of our doomed planet. Pursued by Zhiradji, they crash-landed on Earth, in the days when the old gods reigned."

"What?" I shook my head. "Are you seriously telling me that all the pantheons are real?"

"Yes. My great-grandparents pleaded with those who would listen. Pele, Hawaiian goddess of fire. Nuwa, Chinese goddess of earth. Poseidon, Greek god of the oceans. Shu, Egyptian god of the wind. Their planet was in terrible danger from the Zhiradji, and if they did nothing Earth would fall, and the gods with it. The gods listened intently, coming to a decision. A mortal would be imbued with elemental power and enhanced physical ability in order to defend the earth. They would be Earth's Protector. When that mortal died, if evil still flourished, the power would pass to a worthy host, changing to a different element, and manifesting when they saw an alien for the first time."

"There have been centuries of Protectors, all fighting a war both visible and silent." More figures filled the hologram, all different races and genders and from many different points in time. The one thing they all had in common was that they all wielded the power of the elements. A hippie with long brown hair and an impressive beard shot lightning at a line of Zhiradji circling an antiwar protest. An African American woman set KKK members on fire, her hands crackling with orange and red flame as tongues of fire licked up the white robes. A Native American man made the earth quake, sending several Zhiradji plummeting towards the earth's core. A Japanese woman walked on water, a wave rising behind her, intent on the flotilla of U-boats dead ahead.

"I was born and raised on Earth, the last fully Kelozyn child, trained to seek out and help Protectors. Katherine North, you are the latest Protector. After years of subterfuge and failed plots, the Zhiradji are launching a full-on invasion. You must stop them."

After a lengthy silence, I raised my hand. "Shouldn't we call the Avengers? I mean, I'm flattered, but they're experienced at this sort of thing and I am very much not."

"Do you think they will believe a teenager about a centuries-old war?"

"Well, when you put it that way, no. And I don’t think we can afford to be disbelieved."  I glanced at Danny, who shrugged. "All right, I'll do it. I could never say no to a hologram."

"I am glad you agreed, yet sorry you feel that you have to. If I had my druthers-"

A muffled boom echoed from the hologram. Her eyes widened, locking on something I couldn't see. Then the unearthly sound of tearing metal filled the air.

Thuye looked both of us in the eye, a thousand emotions running across her face. "They're here. You will find all that you need in the orb. Say what you need, and it will appear. I'm sorry-"

The rest of her sentence was lost in a deafening explosion.

 


	4. Chapter 4

The hologram winked out, the blue light fading as if it was never there. Danny turned to me, sheer terror on his face.

"They got her."

"They what?"

"The Zhiradji got her. If they can fly a cruiser to the Kelozyn planet, they can fly one to wherever she is. She knew it, too. That was why she sought you out early, she knew she didn't have time." His voice broke on the last word, and he slumped onto the bed, avoiding my eyes.

I'd only known Thuye for half a day, and yet it had taken less than a minute for her to die. She'd irrevocably changed my life, given me power beyond imagining, and what did she get out of it? A cold and lonely death in what was probably outer space. She could have lived, could have run off to wherever aliens fleeing their pursuers went and let the first Zhiradji attack unlock my power. But she didn't. She risked her life to give me advance warning and the Earth a better shot at winning whatever extraterrestrial war was coming its way.

She was a hero, even if the world at large would never know what she did. And they'd killed her for it.

I lifted my head up, new resolve flowing through me. I could not, would not, let Thuye die in vain. I was going to save the damn world or die trying.

An unexpected pressure on my chest jolted me out of my thoughts. I looked down, only to see something I had never seen before.

Danny was hugging me. The kid who would fake sick to get out of Mom’s family pictures and who regularly denied I was related to him was hugging me. This was only the third time he’d done it, and the first time he wanted to.

”I’m sorry,” he mumbled.

“For what?”

”You told me you were seeing things after you tackled the bush, and I didn’t believe you. Now I know they could have killed you, could have killed me, could have killed both of us, and you still went after it.”

“Yes, but-“

”I’m not done. You knew they were dangerous, didn’t you? Even when I didn’t, even before my clone started stalking me.”

I thought about the bite from a frenzied Chihuahua that narrowly missed my throat, the homicidal glares from so many strangers. 

“Yes, I did.”

”Let me get this straight. Aliens were following you in different forms, probably because of your latent Protector mojo, watching you and trying to maim and kill you, and you still leapt to my defense with no regard for your own safety or how you would be perceived?”

“When you put it that way-“ I paused, thinking hard. “Yes."

Danny let out a pained laugh, the kind that comes from being annoyed with yourself. “And to think I called you a nutjob right after you saved my ass. You’re definitely right for the job.”

For a moment, I thought I was hallucinating. Was Danny complimenting me? I blinked and looked again. Tanned skin, dirty blondish brown hair, ice blue eyes just like Mom’s, assorted freckles, and a mischievous grin. Yep, definitely my brother and not a Zhiradji.

Come to think of it, a Zhiradji would have killed me before I could finish the thought.

”Say what? I’m not a hero, Danny.”

”Really?” He began counting his fingers. “Overwhelming kindness, an innate desire to do the right thing, almost fanatically loyal to those you care about, putting others’ needs before yours, a borderline vicious sense of justice, and determination up the wazoo. Sounds pretty heroic to me.”

”You really think all that about me?”

”Don’t think too much on it. I can always list the bad parts. Selflessness to an unhealthy degree, anxiety, the social skills of a Neanderthal, naïveté-“

“All right, I get the picture!” I shoved him to the side, sending him toppling off the bed. He laughed, grabbing at my legs, and for a moment we both forgot about what lay ahead.

Then that moment shattered.

I’ve always had pretty good hearing, and I can identify almost any sound with decent accuracy. This sound, however, I had no clue about. It sounded like someone was revving an engine in the middle of a tornado, and it was getting louder by the minute.

Running to the window near my dresser, I threw back the curtains to find a metallic aircraft hovering outside.

No, aircraft wasn’t the right word. No aircraft was dark green and barely bigger than my bed, or was shaped like a manta ray in terms of overall design, or had a lime windshield with matching orbs on the wings. Whatever this was, it was definitely a UFO.

As I watched, the loud noise stopped and the green orbs began to glow. An acrid scent filled the air, one that I’d smelled and made many times in the kitchen.

Either something was already burning, or it was about to.

I leaped backwards just as a beam of fire punched straight through the window and landed right where I had been standing. With a hiss, the floorboards ignited, emerald flames licking hungrily at the wood. 

Emerald fire. Shit.

Danny let out a squawk of protest as I grabbed his arm. Tuning out his complaints, I started dragging him to the door as fast as humanly possible.

”What are you doing? Just pour some water on it and we’re fine!”

”If the fact that aliens are using it didn’t tip you off, that is not normal fire. That is Greek fire, able to spread incredibly fast and keep burning even after contact with water.”

Another beam hit the window dead on, and the glass panes began to melt at a rapid pace. I shoved Danny out the door, slamming it shut just as the knob became blisteringly hot.

Cursing, I bolted down the hallway, my brother following closely behind. A low roar echoed from my room, the sound of a small fire getting much larger.

”How do we stop it?”

I didn’t look at Danny when I answered him, instead continuing to look ahead of us. If I focused on politeness instead of getting the hell out, we were both dead.

“We’re still arguing over what it’s made out of, do you really think I know how to stop it?” 

”Yes! Much as I hate to admit it, you’re smarter than me when it comes to book smarts.” 

”There’s a Roman writer named Titus Livy. He theorized that water pressure might have an effect on it. He didn’t say what kind of effect, though.” I yanked open the bathroom door, both of us darting inside.

”Why didn’t you start with that?”

That got me to look at him. ”One, I don’t want a bad effect to blow us both up. Two, do you really think Livy was right about everything? I am not risking your life because of a dead man’s theory!" 

”We still have to do something, Kitty!”

Danny pointed towards the rapidly advancing inferno. Massive tongues of fire tore at the walls, growing closer and closer to where we stood.

“Your room is already toast, and we’ll be next if we don’t do something risky!”

“Which is why I’m taking the risk.”

My brother looked like I’d told him I was going to run around the house in my underwear. I did my best to ignore his shocked face, turning towards the window and taking off my sneaker.

”What are you-“

I picked up my shoe and hurled it at the glass as hard as I could.

CRASH! 

Glass flew everywhere, the entire window smashed to bits by a sneaker with holes in the front. Go figure.

I stared at the wreckage for a moment, just as surprised as my brother but for a different reason. I had not expected it to break on the first try. The second one, maybe, or even the third. But definitely not the first.

I didn’t have time to think on it further, as Danny had recovered from his shock. He did not look happy.

”What the hell? What is this ‘I’m taking the risk’ shit?”

”Language, Danny.”

”Fuck your language!” Shutting the door with a bang, he stormed towards me until we were standing nose to nose. “You don’t even have a plan! This is suicide, and I am not standing by while you die!”

”You won’t be.” I gestured to the now-broken window. “It’s a one-story drop, you’ll live. Definitely better than getting burned alive.”

“No! I’m not breaking my bones just so you can have your damn heroic sacrifice!”

I grit my teeth. Why did he not get that I didn’t want him to die?

“Listen here you little shit. I’d rather have you live with a broken leg than die with your skeletal structure intact. Now either you jump out that window or I’m pushing you out of it, so help me Thor.”

Danny visibly trembled, fear sweeping across his features. For a moment, I thought I had scared him enough for him to finally listen. Then I realized he wasn’t looking at me.

“We’re out of time.”  

Heat seared the back of my neck as I slowly turned around. The door was completely black now, the intense heat causing it to sizzle and pop. Tiny flames curled around the edges, slowly eating away at the only thing keeping the fire back. From the look of things, it wouldn’t be doing that for much longer.

We’d argued so much about dealing with the coming danger that we were caught off guard when it came. How painfully ironic.

As I met my brother’s eyes, my heart sank. He looked terrified, but also resigned, like he’d already given up.

”When I said our old house would kill us, this is not what I meant.”

I slumped down onto the edge of the tub, staring at the tile floor. My brother was too damn young to be making jokes about his impending death.

Death. The word echoed in my brain over and over again. We’d both die if something didn’t happen. I’d die. Danny would die.

The thought of that got me to rise to my feet. My brother was not allowed to die. Sure, he might annoy me, bug me, and drive me nuts. And I do it to him in return. That’s what siblings are for. But at the end of the day, nobody messes with my brother. Not if I can help it.

I leaned over and turned on the water, watching as it poured into the tub. Then I turned to Danny.

”I need you to get behind me right now.”

”What? No way-“

The door creaked, a loud pop sending a portion of the wood flying. At that, the rest of Danny’s protest died on his lips.

”On second thought, yes way.”

He hurried to the window, crouching low to the floor and screwing his eyes shut.

Satisfied, I faced the door and took a deep breath. Ever since I’d run into Thuye, I’d felt something inside me. I had only a vague idea of what it could be, and no idea what it actually was. All I knew for certain was that now, when danger threatened, it was waking up.

Energy flooded my senses, new sensations flowing through my mind. I could feel the water in the pipes of the house, the water collecting in the tub, the sweat beading on my brother’s skin. A surge of power rose from the bowels of my chest, moving down my arms and into my hands. The water bubbled, responding to my call.

Just as the flames broke through the door, I charged to meet them, unleashing my power with a ferocious yell.

The water exploded out of the tub, crashing into the Greek fire. It hissed and spat, the blaze dwindling briefly before rearing back up. I brought my arms down in a circular motion, forcing the now floating water against the fire with as much force as I could put behind it.

A stray ribbon of flame lashed at me. I easily dodged it, then slapped my hands together like I was killing a mosquito. The water followed my movements, slamming into itself and crushing the fire between it. It flickered, then died with a noise like a faulty firecracker going off.

With a hiss, the remaining fire struck at the water, turning it to steam with a touch. Swearing, I dove into the bathtub, hoping to find more water to use. My feet hit the bottom of the tub, feeling around for liquid, but there was none. Earlier it had been filled at least halfway. Now all I could see was ceramic. 

For a moment, I was confused. Then I realized what must have happened. If Greek fire was normal fire on steroids, it would have a higher ambient heat as well. It had evaporated the water I hadn't been manipulating while I was busy keeping the fire at bay. 

I turned back to the fire, stepping back to see it better. I had extinguished a significant portion of it, and it now looked more like a regular fire than fire used thousands of years ago. The problem was, regular fire could still kill just as well, and I'd used my only defense against it.

Time for a strategic retreat. 

Danny stared at me as I approached him, completely awestruck. The situation wasn't ideal, but I'd finally managed to shut my little brother up.

"You-you're-"

"I know, I'm surprised too, but we gotta go!"

Heaving him onto my back, I jumped onto the windowsill, shifting my shoulders so he could grab on. We leaped out the window just as the fire roared behind us, sounding almost human in its rage. 


	5. Chapter 5

Guns were not something I wanted to deal with today, or thought I would. 

Not only was it terrifying to have someone else decide whether you live or die with the push of a finger, Hotaru was holding the gun. She was the woman I wanted to be, and our relationship put her squarely in badass single aunt territory. Nothing about that mentioned that she knew how to shoot someone. Or would be willing to shoot me-

Stop. No. Bad thought. Do not follow that reasoning, do not pass go, do not collect money.

I should probably be running. That would be the rational thing to do in this situation. Then again, nobody had ever accused me of being rational. In terms of self-preservation instinct, I was just above the Wikipedia page of selfie-related deaths. I might be an idiot, but I wasn't a full-blown dumbass.

Up until today, Hotaru had been my friend. Even if she was aiming a firearm at me, that had to count for something. Right?

This was when my smart mouth decided to enter the picture. 

"Hey, person who I admire and cherish, quick question. What the fuck?"

She looked down, but only briefly. "You know who I am now."

"No, I actually don't. Would you like me to tell you what I already know?"

Hotaru didn't say anything, which I took as an opening. 

"I know that you are brave, strong, and loyal. I know that you have your own secrets and I completely respect that. I know that you are my friend and when you get hurt near some very important organs I get concerned about why you have not seen a doctor or even bandaged the wound. I know that all I want to do is help you and you point a gun at me. Seriously? I'm really not a huge fan of that cliche!"

The anger in my tone probably wasn't wise. It was justified, though. My internal mantra of what the everloving FUCK was hitting a fever pitch, and I wanted answers, dammit! Preferably without bullet holes to go with them.

"What cliche?" Slowly, the gun dipped a fraction of an inch. Not great, but not awful either.

"It's a pop culture thing. Spy is discovered by trusted friend, spy kills said friend because they Know Too Much and their stupid organization and stupid secrecy matters more to them than people caring about them and wanting to lend a hand."

An unreadable expression crossed her face. The gun slid into her lab coat, which was a violation of practice rules and wasn't really that important at the moment. Stupid wandering eyes which pick up unimportant details!

"I got it right, didn't I?"

Quietly, she nodded.

I threw my hands in the air for the second time today, this time out of exasperation. "Please tell me you're not HYDRA. Not only would I kind of hate you, I'd have to ask what Nazis want with a vet clinic, and the only answer I can think of is eugenics, and like hell I'm letting you touch any pets-"

"I am not one of them."

"Oh thank Thor. I say that because he's the closest thing to an actual god I have seen, but not because I actually worship him-"

Hotaru let out a brief chuckle. "You're rambling again."

"I think I'm justified when someone I trust tries to kill me. So, who are you? Mossad? CIA? Or are you playing for the other team?"

"You are correct." She bowed her head, the guilt I'd seen on her earlier coming out full force. "And I'm afraid it's the third option."

The side of the table was all that prevented me from falling over. I knew Hotaru was capable of violence. Her black eye was proof enough of that. But the violence needed to navigate the criminal underbelly of society was much more than I ever thought she could muster. Colombian neckties, drive-bys, drugs, betrayal, prostitution, and that was without getting into the superhuman side of things. How could she ever be a part of that?

"Who are you?" I managed to choke out.

"Hotaru Sakai, former wakagashira of the Yamachi-gumi yakuza clan. Currently wanted for murder, assault, blackmail, and breaking and entering in Japan, China, and both North and South Korea."

I laughed, a harsh sound that tore its way out of my aching heart. What was this? This couldn't be my life. My friend was a criminal who could probably kill me and not lose a wink of sleep over it. I'd never heard of yakuza outside of Kill Bill. Now one was right in front of me. Nothing here made sense. Yet it was happening anyway. That made me angrier. Why did life do this to me? As if I wasn't already under enough stress.

Life clearly did not give a fuck about my feelings. Great. So I'd go and punch life in the face by making all this shit make sense. Then I'd go from there. Maybe answers would clear things up slightly, even if I didn't like them. 

"Why did you stop? Why America?" 

"South Korea."

I racked my brain. "When Ultron tried to murder a country and failed? What does that have to do with anything?"

"South Korea is a major shipping center for yakuza-controlled goods. With the damage Ultron did to its infrastructure, we lost a major source of income. There was infighting over the cause. Options were running low. Then the second lieutenant and the administration proposed a plan. We would branch out into fields I shot down years ago. Prostitution. Human trafficking. The drug trade."

"Of course I fought them over it. We were yakuza, not common street criminals. We deal pain and misery to those deserving of it. We would not venture into fields that only brought pain to the innocent."

I wasn't sure how to feel about that. On one hand, Hotaru had committed murder and a host of other horrible crimes. But on the other, she likely saved lives by not going too far, and she was karma to people who were likely assholes. Was there an award for that? World's Best Antihero? Not As Much Of A Jerk As You Could Have Been?

"They went to the oyabun, painted me as incompetent and a danger to the organization. Two nights later, I was attacked by my own bodyguards."

"I fled, knowing that they would stop at nothing to have me out of their way. I spent some time in China and Korea, dealing with the situation the only way I knew how. Through delivering pain to the guilty. Many powerful criminals died at my hands. Then the local law began to suspect, and so I ran once again, ending up here."

Well, I didn't like her answers, that much was true.

"Does my mother know?"

"She knows I have done many awful things. She does not know I am Komainu."

Those words called up a particular image, a headline I'd seen a year or two ago. An elaborate mask, done in the style of a Japanese temple dog. The caption stating that komainu were Japanese temple dogs, traditionally said to protect from evil spirits. Blood staining the walls of a cheap hotel room. RUSSIAN OLIGARCH FOUND DEAD. Sometimes an eidetic memory helped. Other times it showed you things you weren't sure you wanted to know or not.

I very nearly tripped over my own two feet. "The Orlov case-that was you? Holy crap, you're a vigilante. Wait, why are you telling me this?"

"You will likely not see me again."

"Wait, what?"

"You heard me." She sighed. "People know now. I have to leave."

The news hit me like a punch to the gut. "What? Why?"

"Can you honestly say you will not tell anyone you are working with a wanted criminal?"

The question threw me for a loop. Hotaru was my friend. That much was certain. But I couldn't let her be after what had happened. As much as my heart didn't want me to admit it, having her around was dangerous. She had illegal guns and a rap sheet longer than the exam table. If she was found out, we could all be arrested.

I already knew what my answer was going to be, even though I hated it.

"No."

She nodded, as if she'd expected that answer, and headed for the door.

Just as she turned the knob, I thought of something.

"Wait!"

Hotaru pivoted to face me. 

"Head to New York. People are so obsessed with the Avengers they won't look twice at street-level vigilantes. Stay out of Hell's Kitchen, though. There's a man in a devil costume who thinks the whole area's his."

A smile crossed her face. It was faint, and slightly pinched, but it was there. Then the door opened and she was gone, as if she had never existed.

Three minutes later, Diego entered the room, disheveled and positively fuming. "Someone please go deal with Albert, he just called me a wetback and I don't want to punch a teenager-wait, where's Hotaru?"

I shrugged. "I think she needed to use the bathroom."

"I am not going in there after her. Can you deal with him? I can finish the puppies."

"Ugh." I gripped the side of the table, imagining it was Alfred's neck. "Fine. Oh, if he calls you anything like that again I reserve the right to knee him in the balls."

"I'd say I wouldn't enjoy that but that would be a lie."

I grinned before barging out the door in search of an asshole.

As it turned out, I didn't have to search for very long. Just as I rounded the corner to the second exam room, he came out visibly frowning. Not good. At least he didn't seem as hungover.

When he saw me, his frown deepened. "North. Just the person I wanted to see."

"The feeling isn't mutual."

"Cut the sarcasm." He jabbed a well-manicured finger at my chest. I resisted the urge to break it off. "Care to explain why you're dating my sister?"


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW for description of an abusive relationship

Before we get into the nitty-gritty, let's get a few things straight. I'm not. Bisexual, in fact. And what Albert said wasn't wrong, but it was a far cry from being right. 

When I first started high school, I was dealing with a lot of feelings. Finding out that both girls and boys are hot along with the whole social and academic chaos of a new level of schooling did not lend itself to an easy beginning. I was miserable until Tanya Stryker came along. Confident, brilliant, and the most attractive person I'd ever seen. I vividly recall falling off my seat at the lunch table when she walked in. Not the best first impression. 

The first real meeting we had that didn't involve me making an absolute fool out of myself was when we were partnered together on a group history project. The group originally consisted of four people, but the other two decided to skive off and leave all the work to us, so I'm not counting them. Assholes. Anyway, I was hard at work trying to figure out how to do the work of two other people and internally screaming at them for being lowlife bastards. Then out of nowhere, I got an email. It was from Tanya. She'd seen how determined I was to get shit done and was impressed. "Meet me at the library tomorrow," it said. "I have a plan."

Tanya had already picked out several books when I got there, each one piled high by category. After some small talk, she wasted no time in getting down to business. Tanya knew that I was good at research. She was good at public speaking. If we combined forces to show the people who had scorned us what we were capable of, we'd ace the project, set an example, and become the world's best dream team. A hot girl, the chance for payback, and books galore. There was no way I could say no to that.

We made out by my locker after the presentation. She kissed ferociously, hungrily, a lioness claiming me as her own. I loved every minute of it.

She was the very picture of a Stryker, people said. Cold, calculating, terrifying when she got angry. I never saw any of that. The Tanya I knew was gentle, caring, smart, and loyal. Her only crime was perhaps being overzealous in fierce defense of the people she loved. She vetoed any friends I had that had not been past her first, asked me to text her before I went anywhere and cried when I didn't, tuned me out when I didn't listen to her, and insulted me if I didn't agree with what she said. She knew what was best for me, she declared. I was naive and stupid. Without her I would be nowhere. For years I went along with her, thinking it was all normal and not wanting to hurt her feelings. 

Then Jonah Taylor came along in tenth grade, and everything I knew began to fall apart. 

He was kind at first, bringing in a beautiful cake for the teacher's birthday. It was delicious, and I told him so. Tanya, however, didn't like him at all. She told me that she'd seen him yell and scream whenever he didn't get his way. What else could you expect from a black boy, she jeered. I told her that she did that too, and that what she'd said was racist. That was the wrong thing to say. For the first time, I saw rage in the girl I loved. Pure, white-hot rage. It terrified me. A hat covered up the bruise, though, and it wasn't as bad as it could have been. I'd seen her hit a punching bag hard enough to make it dance on the chain.

I started to wonder. Why was Tanya so insistent on keeping our relationship a secret outside of school? Was it because of her parents' homophobia? Because of the scandal a lesbian Stryker would cause? Or was it because of things like this?

She embraced me the next morning, tearfully apologized. It wouldn't happen again, not if I behaved. She didn't want to do anything like that.

And like an idiot, I believed her. 

On Wednesday, Jonah cornered me in the parking lot. He didn't want to hurt me, or make me cry, but he thought my girlfriend was abusive. Of course, I believed none of it. I yelled at him, cursing him out, for how dare he degrade Tanya like that! He just wanted to fuck me, I spat, and Tanya had to be out of the way for that. I went running into her arms, desperate to get away. When he followed me inside, pleading for me to listen, Tanya's eyes went cold. Colder than anything I had ever seen.

My girlfriend, my sweet, caring girlfriend, hauled off and punched him in the face with all her strength. Jonah staggered backwards, clutching his mouth. I grabbed her arm, but she threw me aside. The second punch hit him in the stomach. He collapsed to the floor, and she strode over to him, her steps clicking ominously on the tile floor. Scared brown eyes met mine as he took a boot to the face. Then again. And again. And again. She ended up kicking him thirty-seven times. I know because she glared at me for every single blow, ice blue eyes piercing mine. What she was doing to him, however badly he was going to be hurt, she wanted me to know that it was my fault. 

She was screaming at him as she struck, horrible slurs and abuse and filth. By the time she was done, I couldn't see Jonah's face anymore. There was too much blood. His eyes were still there, by some miracle. Still staring at me though his features were a horror show. He didn't stop looking at me until the police came. 

That night was the worst night of my whole life. Wednesday, March 8th, 2015. The date's burned into my memory. I can't get it out. 

I tried to explain and she yelled at me. I didn't get to speak. Not when I had kissed Jonah.

I didn't know what she was doing, not at first. It was when she threw me to the floor and started stripping that things became horribly clear. With every push, every unwanted kiss, she sent a message. Your fault. Your punishment. Don't struggle, you'll just make it worse. 

That's one of the reasons why I remember that night. The other is the realization I came to, through tears and ice cream and marathoning Bones.

Tanya Stryker is abusive. Both physically and emotionally.

I might not like it, I might not be able to do anything about it at the moment, but it's true. 

I lie to her now whenever she wants to go out. I've gotten very good at it. Sickness, groundings, vet clinic overtime. When I do have to see her, like at school or for our weekly date, I bite the bullet, smile and wave, and hope like hell she doesn't realize I know the truth. Fake it till you make it. Out in this case.

It's a downright awful way to live.

Alfred drew closer, his face darkening further. An overprotective big brother. Fantastic. As if I didn't have enough on my plate already.

"Answer me, North. Why are you dating Tanya?"

The very mention of her name sent a chill down my spine. I wanted nothing more than to yell at him until his ears bled. But I was on the clock. I'd have to handle this another way.

"I'm not. Not anymore."

He stumbled back, face a perfect storm of confusion and anger. I resisted the urge to grin at the genius of my answer. Either he went into shovel talk mode and ignored the fact that his sister dated a girl, or he went the homophobia route and ignored his little sister's undefended "honor". I might not like psychology, however you can't deny that it can be useful.

Luckily for me, he chose the first option.

"So you were dating her in the first place."

"Yes, and if that offends your delicate slaveholder sensibilities you can go ask her just how good of a kisser I am." It was a double-pronged insult to his worldview, mixed in with a bluff I hoped he wouldn't take me up on.

Who am I kidding? Alfred Stryker couldn't recognize a bluff if it danced naked in the middle of the Lincoln Memorial Reflecting Pool.

"How dare you! My family has the lineage of Southern plantation owners, not-"

I scoffed, loudly and accompanied by an eyeroll of epic proportions. "Hate to break it to you, but the Stryker family owned slaves. It's on our reading list. Hell, it's in the National Archives! You don't know your own family history? That's just sad."

That really set him off. Apparently family was a touchy subject. He yelled something unintelligible, the only words I could catch being "bitch" and "fucking sarcasm". If there was ever a time for a speedy exit, it was now.

"Drink some water when you're done pitching a fit. I'm going to go get some work done." 

I was three steps away from him when a rough hand grabbed the back of my lab coat. I pitched forward and landed chest-first on the floor. It wasn't a gentle landing, since I'd had nothing to break my fall with. My midsection felt like I'd just badly failed a belly flop.

"Ow, fu-" I cut myself off at the last second, remembering just in time that there could be kids in the building. 

He prowled closer, all menace and no grace. "If anyone asks, you tripped."

I was too stunned and pained to get up. Alfred might have hurled racist swears and slurs. He'd injured animals. This was the first time I'd ever seen that he'd purposefully hurt a human.

There was no elation at my discovery. No shrieks of "EUREKA!" or champagne toasts. Just a cold, hard, pit of dread forming in my stomach. Tanya's brother was just as bad as she was. Before this, my only spot of reassurance was that however bad she was elsewhere, she could never come to the clinic. Now, even that was stripped away because Alfred was willing to do what she did. How could I stand up to the same level of abuse on two fronts?

I couldn't. So, in at least one area, I wouldn't. Enough was enough.

In one fluid motion, I got to my feet. Swimming was fun, even though I struggled at it. I was pretty sure I could smush a walnut with my abs. Not crack it, though. That would be Michael Phelps' job.

"Give me one good reason not to report you to my mother and get you fired."

He smirked. "That would be nepotism, wouldn't it?"

"At this point, I don't care. You do it. I'm playing by your rules, since they seem to be working so well. The reason, if you would?"

"We fund the clinic." A scowl crossed his face. "We've done this dance before, North. You lose. It's just the way of things."

"How about I change the way of things by hurling some invective at your ugly mug?"

Albert only had time to raise an eyebrow before it was my turn to point fingers and get in his face.

"You're a despicable pathetic waste of a human being that gets off on hurting and demeaning others. You are living proof that being a jackass is genetic, and it can be passed down from generation to generation!"

"Hell, your whole family's a Punnett square of racist, sexist assholes! Your father lines the pockets of politicians who only care about themselves, your mother is the perfect Christian woman who supports conversion camps and hunting down transgender people, and your sister cheats on tests, abuses her significant others, and runs our grade like a segregation-era anything. Whites only and the rest can fuck off."

"In short, you're a fucking dick and I hope you get hit by a car and die."

I spat out my last words just as the door to my right opened. My mom strode forward, her face thunderous. I only had time to think oh, shit before I realized she wasn't looking at me.

Even a machismo Straight White Male like Albert faltered for a moment under Dr. North's furious glare. Then he plastered a fake smile on his face.

"Dr. North! So good to see you-"

"Cut the bullshit." My mom's voice was quiet and even. That was bad, at least for Albert. When either one of my parents got quiet, shit was about to hit the fan. "Mr. Stryker. My office. Now."

Her tone left no room for debate.

"And me?"

She turned, her expression troubled. "Go home."

"But-"

"Go home, Katherine."


	7. Chapter 7

I didn't allow myself to feel anything until I got back out to the bike.

My mother had taught me this lesson when I had first told her I'd be working with Albert, and I'd carefully honed it through time with Tanya. If you were in public, or at a job, a certain degree of professionalism was required. Bawling your eyes out didn't fit that criteria. So I kept my chin up and my eyes dry until I was out of the building.

The second I went through the door, I rushed over to my bike and flopped onto my butt next to it. Tears blurred my vision as I hugged my knees, trying to get as far away from the real world as possible.

I'd just fucked up. Badly. In multiple ways. Alfred would get in trouble, sure. But there was no way the clinic wouldn't suffer consequences. I was the one who yelled at him, they'd say. Control the emotions of your daughter, not those of our son. Basically, it would all boil down to "boys will be boys". That would suck. There'd be a loss of funding at the very least, because if the Stryker child wasn't treated with respect and proper deference we couldn't be a good little classist practice. Which was what they wanted. At the very worst, people would get fired. Definitely my mom and me. Diego, most likely. Immigrants were worse than vermin to the Strykers. Hotaru, if she hadn't already skipped town.

Speaking of Hotaru, today was the day I found out she was a wanted criminal and vigilante. What did I do? Absolutely nothing. If anything, I'd aided and abetted by giving her the New York idea. If she went on to kill people, that would be on me. If people found out Open Hearts had sheltered Komainu, even unwittingly, there went the practice. Nobody would come if they knew we associated with criminals. Nobody coming would mean budget cuts, which meant people would have to leave or be fired. So people would be kicked out of the practice twice over. Great. Fantastic. Absolutely splendiferous. 

Why couldn't life be fair? I didn't believe in a capital-G god, just a divine presence that may or may not be an actual deity, but the way things had gone today made it hard not to think someone up there was laughing at me. 

Loki, probably. He'd had the power to attack NYC, messing with my life would be easy as pie. If that was true...

"Hey, Loki," I muttered, flipping an errant bird towards the sky. "If you're doing this, fuck you. I'll send you shampoo if you don't stop. That would terrify you, right? So stop."

Now I just had to wait and see if that did anything. Meanwhile, getting my mind off things would be nice.

So I straddled my bike, checked the paneers, and rode off while trying not to cry some more. 

The not-crying piece failed the minute I got out of the lot. I was so guilty and sad that it was a miracle that I didn't cause a car accident. Getting to the library unharmed was nothing less than an act of Thor. Could he even do that? If you got enough worshippers, and you were an alien, would that actually do something?

Regardless, I was still sniffling as I jammed my bike into the bike rack with maybe a little more force than was necessary. The paint scraped a little, and I winced. I'd have to fix that later, or bug my dad into doing it for me.

The old stone building loomed in front of me. It had previously been a church during the Revolutionary War era before getting renovated during the second World War. Now, it was the world's creepiest library.

Well, fuck that. I had no intention of going into the library. I was just here to return books. I'd already met a killer today, even if she didn't end up shooting me. If I went into that building, what with my luck, I'd run into Freddy Krueger. Or Jason Voorhees. Or something equally pants-wetting. I was not going to be the white girl in a horror movie, thank you very much. I'd do this as quickly as possible and then go very far away. No pushing my luck for me. Not today at least. 

I walked as fast as I could without running down the sidewalk, nearly dropping the books in my hurry. Hurling them into the return slot, I prayed they wouldn't jam as I wheeled around for my trip back to the bike. They didn't jam, which was the only good part about this whole day. Things were looking up, ever so slightly. Maybe if I got home in time, today would be salvageable. 

Then Loki decided to piss in my apple juice. 

When I was about a third of the way down the sidewalk, I heard a hissing noise. My first thought was that a pipe must have burst, but then I dismissed it. This noise was quiet, and whatever was making it sounded like it wanted to keep it that way. So mechanical failure was out.

Maybe it was some random jackass messing with me? Escaped zoo animal? We did have the National Zoo near us, it wasn't entirely impossible.

"Hello?"

No response. I waited for a moment, then whirled around, making my best scary face. I'd assumed that would at least do something. No luck, because there was nothing there except for a flash of green in the shadow of the building. 

Okay, this was definitely not something I wanted to stay around for. This was the start of a Supernatural episode! Which meant it was time to haul ass. I turned and ran, heart pounding. The hissing grew louder, and I heard claws begin to click on the pavement. 

Oh crap. Whatever it was, it was chasing me.

I'd barely had that thought when an unearthly shriek split the air. I turned around, just before realizing that was the absolute worst thing I could have done. The noise hadn't been a scream or anything of the sort. The Nature Channel had taught me a little too well. That was a hunter closing in on its prey. 

Something erupted out of the air, something huge and green and scaly. It must have been the green by the building, but how the hell did it get over to me so fast? I didn't have time for an answer, as it crashed into me with the force of a speeding car. The air in my lungs made an abrupt exit as it viciously slammed me to the ground. My eyes widened as two clawed hands grabbed my arms, forcing them to the pavement. I struggled, however I could have been a flea for all the good it did. The thing held firm, with a grip like iron and a malicious gleam in its eye.

So that was what being tackled was like. Right then, I made a firm resolution to never, ever play football.

Now that it was pinning me to the ground, I could get a good look at it. It was bipedal, with a vaguely human build. Two arms, two legs. That was where the similarities to Homo sapiens ended. Emerald scales, crisscrossed with many scars and bruises. This creature had been in fights. Lots of them. Wicked-looking claws on both its hands and feet. Two large stingers extending from the top of its hands, which were anatomically impossible as well as quite deadly. All it had to do would be to jab an arm forward and I'd be a shish-kebab even if the hit didn't have poison. No nose, just two almond-shaped holes. A lipless mouth filled to the brim with razor-sharp teeth. Four glowing yellow eyes, two on either side of the lack of the nose. Those were what scared me most, not the claws or the tail or the teeth.

They say that the eyes are the windows to the soul. While I have my doubts about that, the eyes can tell you what a person is like. I've tried it on many occasions. When I looked into these eyes, with no pupil or even an iris, I saw carnage, pain, misery, and death staring back. All the things that make up the dark side of our world, and not a single ounce of kindness or mercy.

Just my luck. Not only did I get attacked by an alien, it had to be one of the homicidal ones. Predators, Xenomorphs, and other pop-culture psychos were bad enough when they were going after Sigourney Weaver or Kurt Russell. The real thing was even worse than I had seen or imagined. Not that I wanted to get implanted with a Facehugger, but you get the idea. The Facehugger and others like it were only available in a DVD or On Demand. This creature was very real and no push of a button would make it go away.

The Xenomorph caricature pulled its mouth into a facsimile of a smile, hot, stinky breath engulfing my face. I coughed, and it just grinned wider. Then it raised an arm, going for a dramatic, possibly ritual impalement.

Ironically, its need for drama ended up saving me. Kermit had done a great job of securing my upper body, but it had been so focused on ensuring my continued stillness that it had forgotten completely about my lower body. Desperation and adrenaline, as well as the guidance of many action movie heroes who fought dirty, made my next move clear. If I was going to survive, I couldn't count on any mercy or respect from the alien. Time to channel my inner Beatrix Kiddo, Black Widow, and Ellen Ripley, however small that portion of myself might be.

By now, Facehugger had started to chant in a hissing, guttural language I didn't recognize. I didn't know what it was saying, but I could make a guess. Thank Thor for monologues. I hoped it wouldn't mind an interruption.

My leg shot up with all my remaining strength, plowing straight into where its legs met. It made a sound I believe was only audible to dogs, crumpling to the pavement and clutching its groin area like it was the Holy Grail.

I scrambled upright, using my lucky break to get over to my bike as fast as possible. I was halfway down the street when I heard a roar of rage.

Apparently Kermit didn't like my use of deductive reasoning to find out whether getting kicked in the groin hurts aliens. Its claws glinted in the afternoon light as it broke into a dead run, eyes fixed directly on my own. 

My bike swerved to the side, and I hurriedly looked back at the road before I dented the parked Camaro on the right. I pedaled faster, my protesting legs nothing compared to what I'd just seen. I had to get away from it, because I knew in my heart if it caught me, it would not hesitate to kill me. It had just tried to, and if anything I'd given it more of a reason. 

After a block of hard riding, my energy was rapidly draining, but my pursuer didn't seem to have broken a sweat. Who was this? Alien Usain Bolt? Could Usain Bolt outrun bikes? I really didn't want to find out. A sigh escaped me as I breathed hard, trying to get as much oxygen into my lungs as possible. If it could run as fast as I could ride, then how could I escape it?

Then a hill rose up before me, and an idea popped into my brain. So far, both me and the creepy thing had been biking and running on flat ground. The alien creature seemed to be used to that. What would happen if I used the incline to get a head start? Would it be able to outstrip me still? Or would it fall behind and I could finally escape?

One way or another, I was going to find out.

The hill was fairly easy for me to climb, I'd done it a thousand times before. I didn't dare risk back to see if the creature was having difficulties. If I did, I'd slow down and give it an advantage. Quite frankly, I'd rather rot in hell before I did that.

It was at the top that things got tricky. Since the climb itself was easy, the other side wouldn't offer too much in the way of momentum. I'd have to do most of the pedaling myself, and hope that the descent offered enough juice for a decent boost.

The hiss came closer, and I knew it was past time to speculate. With a grunt of effort, I pushed off, pedaling faster than I had ever tried to before. My muscles and lungs screamed in unison, but I wasn't worried about that right now. I was worried about my continued survival. The wind whipped past my face, a razor blade against my skin. I was going so fast that if I crashed into a car I would likely not get up again. Although that might be preferable than letting what was behind me catch up.

Just as I reached the halfway point, I heard a furious scream from behind me. I knew turning to see what it was would be stupid and ill-advised. So of course I did it anyway.

In the brief glimpse I got, I saw the figure at the top of the hill, bellowing its displeasure at me. I felt a rush of relief. My half-assed plan, for whatever reason, had worked, and it was not happy about it. Even from more than twelve feet away, their baleful yellow gaze still pierced mine. It wasn't the homicidal look I'd seen earlier, though. This stare was one that promised a rematch.

We're not finished here.

I turned back to the road just in time to see my front tire impact with the curb, flipping the bike up into the air. There was a feeling of weightlessness, a flash of pain, and then darkness.


	8. Chapter 8

Most people woke up to nice things, like birds chirping, a musical alarm, or the smell of pancakes. Me? I regained consciousness with my back digging into the curb and rain soaking every single part of my body and clothing.

At this point, after messing up their job, getting held at gunpoint, being attacked by something out of the Twilight Zone, and crashing into someone's car, most people would also let loose with a well placed "fuck". The problem was, things had gone so wrong in so many ways that an F-bomb wasn't going to cut it. I needed a stronger curse word for this sort of thing. If I came up with it, maybe I could market the word. After New York, people surely need it just as much as I did. The word for when your life becomes X-Files mixed with Mission Impossible with Twilight's emotional craziness thrown in. 

Unfortunately, nothing came to mind, so I had to settle for some regular cursing. Out went my business venture, in came pain and exhaustion. Ponzi schemes had nothing on this deal. 

I started to wiggle around a little, testing the extent of what the crash had left me with. Nothing seemed broken, which was good. The concussion test came up clean too. I didn't have blurry vision, nausea, a headache, or any of the other symptoms. While I was in no way a medic, learning about concussions was mandatory at almost every high school I'd seen.

When I tried to roll my ankle, it protested, and I frowned at it. Even my body was going after me today. Thankfully, it wasn't fractured, but it did feel very sprained. No way was I walking home, and even the biking would be a little iffy, depending on how much stress going up hills would put on it.

Shit, my bike!

The last I'd seen of it, it had gone flying in another direction. I was mostly safe from the impact, which probably meant that my bike had taken most of the damage. I'd have to check if it was even intact before trying to ride home. Then again, if it was broken, I'd have to lug it home, which was not a task I relished the thought of doing.

I struggled to my feet, wobbling a little as I straightened up. I nearly fell twice, only regaining my balance when I busted out some colorful cursing. Glancing around, I kept an eye out for any blue I could see, which in a rainstorm was not much. The lightning helped, but also made me feel like an ant about to get squished. Lightning looked pretty, sure. I just happened to be very aware that it could kill me.

There were some morning glories on someone's front porch that looked about ready to go to plant Jesus, the slate blue of the sky, which ignored my displeasure and kept raining, a child's toy elephant someone left out on the front lawn, and a teal VW Bug parked at the base of the hill. It was a shame no one else was here, or I could have continued to cement my title as North Family Punch Buggy Champion.

There was enough blue in this neighborhood to put Grover into a coma, but no sign of my bike. That was odd, because I was sure it had to be on the street somewhere. Bicycles didn't just go flying a block over, or into the sky. If it was here and I just wasn't seeing it, it had to be at least partially rusted by now. Not only would it look ugly in the end, it would probably give me tetanus to boot.

Still, a rusted bike was better than no bike, so I kept at it.

Just as I made my way forward to check a bush, lightning cracked yet again. I jumped, lost my balance on the slick road, and fell flat on my back. I lay there gasping, the wind completely knocked out of my body for the second time in under an hour. Either I had broken an entire mirror factory or somebody up there was laughing their ass off at me.

I honestly didn't want to get up. I was cold, wet, tired, emotionally drained, and in pain. Right now, I was done with life. Donezo, through, kaput, quit cold turkey.

Then somebody poked me in the side.

I glanced up, only to see a fairly old woman. She looked to be about in her sixties, with wild black hair threaded with silver and a wrinkled light brown face. A long gray dress fell all the way to the wet road, with a blue and white patterned shawl covering her shoulders. I couldn't place her ethnicity, though. Iranian, maybe? Native American? Not to mention that I had no idea where she'd come from. I hadn't heard a car pull up or anyone walking around. How had she gotten here?

She drew her shawl over her head before offering a gloved hand. Some older ladies liked to be proper, so it wasn't that much of a surprise to see her wearing mitts. I took it, surprised at her strength. With her help, I was able to get to my feet without wiping out again. At least I had that small dignity.

"Thank you," I stammered. "I'm sorry to bother you, but have you seen my bike?"

In response, she drew something from behind her back. I had no idea how she'd found it, or even how it had been behind her the whole time. But it was unquestionably my bike. If that wasn't weird enough, it looked like it was in mint condition. The area where I'd chipped the paint was no longer there, any damage it had suffered from the crash seemed to be gone, and the tires were fully pumped up.

This had gone well past strange into the realm of the unexplainable. If I was dealing with something of that nature, it was probably best to be polite. So I swallowed my suspicions and touched the handlebars tentatively.

"This looks very nice. I can't thank you enough."

Finally, the woman spoke, voice hesitant. "I should be thanking you. Are you not the Savior?"

That threw me for a loop. The only time I'd heard Savior used in everyday conversation was in relation to Christianity. I was not Jesus, nor did I really want to be. Jesus had to deal with persecution, armed soldiers coming after him and his friends, forty days and nights in the desert, crowns of thorns, the fact that a convicted murderer mattered more than him, and being hung on a cross until he died. Sure, he came back afterwards, but that didn't mean it would hurt like hell. No pun intended. Plus, if I was in the same scenario, my lack of divine blood would likely mean I didn't get a do-over. The Bible didn't lie, even though I saw it as more of a how-to guide than divine Scripture. Being the Son of God sucked. 

I wasn't going to say that, though. In every fairy tale I'd read, the rude person gets heavily punished by the powerful being or by conveniently placed karma. Disney might have skimmed over that little detail, but the originals didn't lie. The Evil Queen in Snow White was forced to dance in red-hot shoes until she died. Depending on the version, Lady Tremaine and her daughters either cut parts of their feet off to fit the shoe (they still fail) or get their eyes plucked out by birds at the wedding. The mean sister has toads and other reptiles fall out of her mouth in Toads and Diamonds, ruining the rest of her life and possibly giving her a horrible case of salmonella. 

My chest still felt like a deflated balloon from when the Jolly Green Giant tried to skewer me. No way was I risking being turned into a toad or thrown out of a medieval tower or anything like that. One painful experience at a time, please and thank you. 

"I'm not sure what you're talking about, ma'am. Could you please give me a little more detail?"

"So you don't know." The woman made a soft oh of comprehension. "This must be terribly confusing for you. My apologies. However, we do not have much time."

Okay, that wasn't ominous at all. That was the sort of thing spies and Quentin Tarantino characters said, usually followed by a hail of gunfire or an improbably large explosion. Neither of those would be great in a residential neighborhood, to say nothing of the fact that I really didn't want to get dragged into something like this. Unfortunately, an old lady had asked for my help. I was obligated to aid her to the best of my ability. You can blame Steve Rogers and his PSA videos, my ridiculously moral parents, and being a longtime devotee of the Avengers for that. Even if I'd jump into this mess kicking and screaming, I had to do something. I was stupid like that. 

That didn't mean I had to go in uninformed. Or unquestioning. 

"You're kind of freaking me out here. Who are you, what do you want, and why do you seem to think I can do anything about it?"

"You don't understand. You are capable of more than you think you are-"

"Let me stop you right there. I know what I'm not capable of, which is likely what you're asking me to do. I am approximately sixteen. My muscles and my brain are still relatively undeveloped and I'm prone to freaking out in situations involving mortal peril. Running long distances makes me want to puke my guts out. I'm barely able to drive, and I still don't have a car. The little driving skills I do have come from watching people play Mario Kart. I can't fire a gun or throw a knife. The only weapon I know how to use is a bow and arrow, and I can barely hit an unmoving target. Fighting ability? I don't have it. I can throw a punch and a groin kick. The probability that they hit anything is a thousand to one."

"The things I am capable of are sarcasm, research, and copious amounts of knowledge about superheroes and pop culture. If you need to find out who was the first person to die in the Alien movies? I'm your girl. A detailed Tumblr essay about why we shouldn't pit women against each other, even fictional ones? Give me an hour and a bag of jelly beans. Passionate arguing about why every single one of the Avengers really needs psychiatric help? Look no further."

I sighed. Not for the first time, I wished I was someone else. Someone who could do something instead of blogging about it into the void. 

"I can't help you. At least not effectively. Will I try? Absolutely. Will I succeed? The Magic 8 Ball says nope."

The woman stared at me for a long moment. I tensed, prepared for disintegration or some other furious display of magic. Her hopes had just been dashed, what reason would she have to not take it out on me?

Then she did something totally unexpected. She started laughing. Real, busting-a-gut, tear-inducing laughter. It got to the point where I was nervous that she would fall over, she was bent over so low.

"Ma'am, are you all right?"

She let out a few more chuckles before rising to her feet. "Yes. It's just that this is the funniest response I have gotten. You are definitely the one."

The next few things happened so fast, I nearly missed them. In one fluid movement, she yanked off her glove, tossed it to the ground, and grabbed my arm with a force no old lady could muster.

"Hey, what the-"

An arc of light snapped through my body with the force of a bullwhip, and suddenly I'm surrounded by water. It's seeping into my skin, my nose, my mouth, my eyes, washing away any bone or flesh or anything that I once was. It washes into my blood, driving it out of my body and replacing it with drops of water and the purest cold. It's so cold I can't feel it, just a sense of something that should be there but isn't. My bones are ice, my skin is frost, water is within me and my blood is now the blood of the oceans. 

I'm not human anymore. I'm not breathing, my heart is not beating. I'm a force of nature. I'm a brace of hurricanes near the Bahamas, a rainstorm in Seattle, a tsunami in the Philippines, a blizzard in Volgograd, sleet in London, puddles in Topeka, the Atlantic and the Pacific and the Indian and the Caribbean and the Mediterranean. I can feel each drop, tell when each wave will hit, know in my core how many inches has fallen and when it will stop or lessen or increase.

It all flows through me. Water and ice and cold and freefall and flips and screams and malice and solemn vows and years of war and legacy and rebirth and death and sea creatures and aliens and blood and pain and ships and the everpresent feeling of danger-

That's when I woke up.

I was lying on the ground, only halfway there, trembling without any sign of stopping. I didn't know that I could If I wanted to. It's a battle to keep my eyes open, one that I was swiftly losing. 

The woman was no longer there. A tall, thin being had taken her place, pale blue skin replacing the wrinkled brown. It studied me with curiosity and compassion. Instinctively, I knew the woman and the alien were one and the same. 

Words meet my ears. I couldn't hear them, only sense them as they came near me. My being absorbed them, akin to my eidetic memory but on a much deeper level.

"I am Thuye, a survivor of what was once a race than numbered thousands. The Okaim were wiped out millennia ago by the race that you encountered this day. They wiped out half of them, then killed the survivors over the centuries. One fled to Earth, pleading with the gods when the Earth was young to help him. He, with their help, created a cycle, the powers of the elements given by the gods to Terrans to fight the Zhiradji. You are the latest Protector."

"They will know you have been transformed. They will be coming. Find heroes of your world and those you trust to stand beside you. You must fight them, or all is lost. Your world will be Zhiradji, and humanity will be their cattle."

"Get back up. Protect. Avenge."


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to pull a page from comic books that have gone before me-sentences translated from Russian will be in greater than or less than signs, < like this >.

I don't remember much after that, unless the eternal darkness of the void counts. Which means I was probably unconscious. That, or experiencing another vision quest that I had no idea how to translate.

When I woke up again, I was back in my room. 

Given what I'd seen today, you'd think I would be rational about yet another escalation in craziness. 

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH!"

I flailed, fell off the bed, and started cursing a blue streak when my shin hit the dresser. The Savior of the World, everyone. If Thuye was watching, which was a distinct possibility, she'd either be having second thoughts or laughing her ass off. 

Well, excuse me if I was a little freaked out by teleportation. 

My room looked exactly like it had this morning, the only difference being the afternoon light coming through the curtains. So I was back where I thought, and not in some alternate dimension. That would suck donkey balls. There was no sign of my bike, again. Hopefully it had been put in the garage. If not, I'd have to explain why I came home and my bike didn't. When they got home, that is. Mom was likely still dealing with the ramifications of Alfred-gate, and I knew Dad's office was somewhere in Maryland. He'd be back by dinner, if not a little later. Plenty of time to find where my bike had gone in the general vicinity of the house and put it back where it was supposed to be, if it wasn't there already. Then I could sit here and figure out what the fucking hell had happened.

I rose to my feet, doing a mental checkup as I did so. My ankle had inexplicably healed itself, which was another thing to add to the growing weirdness list of today. Scrapes on my shins, but those are easy to explain. Small injuries have more ways they could happen. Chest area still hurt a lot. That was bad. Hopefully there were no broken ribs. Those would require wrappings, which would bring up questions and eventually a hospital visit. I couldn't have that.

Why is that, you might ask? From my description earlier, the Norths seem like a happy, healthy family, comfortably in the middle-class range. However, one constant in my story is that things are not always what they appear. 

The truth is, middle-class for immigrants and middle-class for American-born citizens are two very different things. Immigrants, even ones that can pass for white, don't get the job opportunities others can get easily. Want proof? There's a song called No Irish Need Apply written by John Poole. Look it up, I'm not lying. Even though it was written a while ago, the sentiments still ring sadly true today.

Dad had to study day and night to become a lawyer, enduring taunts and jeers. He failed his bar exam twice. Now, he struggles to keep his moral code intact in the murky world of criminal defense, pro bono cases draining what he can bring home. My salary is chicken feed compared to what other vet techs who are arguably less competent than me make. (Alfred, I'm looking at you). Mom works day and night, her salary barely enough for the essentials. Our mortgage on a small suburban house is covered by the skin of our teeth. In her little free time, she scours yard sales, clearance racks, and dollar stores for the small things that make me and Danny feel like Richie Rich. Tupperware containers? Dug out of the junkyard in Falls Church. My books on the shelf? Pilfered from a Barnes and Noble's dumpster. My computer? Dad assembled it himself two Christmases ago, with Danny pitching in. I've memorized the neighbors' WiFi passwords, it's the only way I can use it.

We've never had a hospital visit in all the years we've lived in America. I don't want to break that streak now. A hospital visit is expensive, and with Mom's job in jeopardy, we might not be able to afford lunches next week, much less something like that.

I sighed, resisting the urge to kick my dresser. I didn't want to have a slice of cheese on bread for lunch, but I didn't want to go running to Tanya for a piece of her foie gras or whatever rich shit she'd bring in. It was a situation I'd put myself, along with the whole family, in. 

We were poorer now than we had been, and it was my fault.

A knock on the door nearly sent me to the floor again. That couldn't be right! Nobody was home! Mom was out, Dad was out, Danny was-

Oh, shit. Danny was not out. Danny had no job, and thus had no reason to be out.

Fuck me with a rusty chainsaw.

He looked just as annoyed as I thought he would be when I opened the door. The frowny-face emoji was out in full force.

I tried to put on a winning smile. "Hey, Danny boy! To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Cut the act. We need to talk."

Danny didn't wait for me to answer, instead ducking past me into my room. He flopped onto my bed, spearing me with a glare. 

"You never get home this fast from the clinic, you look like someone's hit you with a baseball bat, both physically and emotionally, and Mom isn't answering my emails. What is going on?"

I cursed again, this time internally. While Danny did have a particularly profane vocabulary already, I was not going to teach him any new words. My little brother might be a massive pain, and not just in the ass, but he was just as smart as I was. Maybe smarter, if we counted his computer wizardry. His greatest accomplishment was when he changed the grades of all the kids he knew had cheated on a test, then hacked into the hated math teacher's computer and made it play the Imperial March over the intercom. I was in history, and I had to try very hard not to laugh my ass off in the middle of a serious debate about the death penalty. If we're talking in D&D terms, Danny is the very definition of chaotic good.

"Something really crazy happened. Remember New York?"

"I was twelve, I remember explosions and aliens. Your point?"

I looked him directly in the eye. I didn't know if he was ready for something like this. I wasn't, and I was supposed to be the leader. But if things got ugly, there was no one I'd rather have on my side than my brother, the boy who's made it his life's work to question my every decision.

"It started when my vodka aunt pointed a gun at me."

It took a while to unload everything. I didn't understand it all myself, and trying to put it all into words was not easy. Luckily, Danny kept peppering me with questions. I hoped that meant he was listening, and not immediately writing me off as a nutcase. Though whether they were relevant or not was another story.

"So aliens do have family jewels. Huh. Do they have a double set?"

"Would it be illegal to dump Stryker files on the Internet? Black Widow did it, so it can't be that bad."

"You let a vigilante who's killed people go loose? And told her where to go? I can't decide whether to high-five you or slap you."

"That old lady sounds really shady. I'm just saying. Why come now? Why can't she help you further?"

I tried to answer him as best I could, but it was tough. Some of his questions were ones I was mulling over as well. Thuye basically magically tasered me, blinked me back to my house, healed my ankle but not my likely broken ribs, and told me to go fight something that had nearly killed me. That sounded irresponsible and anxiety-inducing, not like an origin story.

When I was finished, Danny lay back on my bed and stared up at the ceiling. "Only you would get involved in something like this."

"So you don't think I'm crazy? I think I'm crazy, and I saw everything with my own eyes."

"Nope. While from what you've told me, you've lied to our parents and me in the past-" 

I winced and got another frown in response. 

"But we'll talk about that later, young lady. Our first priority is, and I can't believe I'm saying this, the Martians. You told me what happened with immense detail. Hell, you even described how anatomically improbable the things that nearly killed you were. Either you're reading from the latest Alien script, which I don't see in your hands, or this is all real."

"And you're not scared?" 

"Of course I'm scared." He rolled over to the side of my bed, just barely touching my fingers with his own. "Who do you think I am, Thor? I'm just going to do something about it instead of curling up in a ball. That means going to the place that can offer us the most answers, if we know where to look."

"Which is where?"

Danny's smirk slid back onto his face. "The Internet."

By the time I had gotten enough brain cells together to raise an eyebrow, Danny had scurried over to my desk and was poking at my computer with the face of a mad scientist. Great. The last time I'd let him touch my computer, he'd changed my homescreen to when I'd gotten a horrible case of acne. I was not letting him mess with it again.

"Hey!"

He didn't even throw a glance my way. Typical. When you really need it, big sister authority matters exactly jack shit.

"Get off my computer, you little douchecanoe! If we're going to do this, we need to do it the right way."

That got his attention. If there was a choice between the right way and the wrong way, my brother would usually streak straight down the middle. Meanwhile, I preferred the Steve Rogers way of things. Do it the right way first, then if you don't succeed, explore alternative, morally gray options.

Danny slowly turned around, hands at his sides. Uh-oh. That was his pranking position. If you couldn't see what was in his hands, chances were you didn't want to.

I caught a flash of yellow as he brought his right arm up. Too small to be a whoopie cushion, too round to be a can of snakes. Before I could find out what it was, he reared back and chucked it right at my face.

"Think fast!"

Usually, whatever he'd thrown would hit me somewhere painful. He'd left bruises before. If we had the money, we'd absolutely have enrolled him in sports. As it was, Danny was good enough to smoke me in any backyard game without really making an effort.

However, this was not a usual day. Not by any circumstances.

As the projectile left his hand, my mind sped up. Instead of electricity, my thought processes were pure energy. Something inside me was different now, that much I knew. I didn't know if it had been there before, or if today was the day it had changed, but something inside me had woken up. My body exploded into motion, an arm snapping forward in a strong yet fluid movement. The ball was in motion for perhaps half a second before my hand snapped shut around it.

Then my mind slowed down again, and I was staring at a tennis ball, resting motionless in my hand.

Danny was so stunned he forgot how to speak English. <"How. What? No-that should have stung. Did it sting?">

Mutely, I shook my head.

<"Holy shit. You snatched an object right out of the air. That's impossible. For that to happen, and a ball moving at that speed, because I was throwing very hard, you'd have to be moving faster than an Olympic sprinter and-"> He paused, making an effort to switch to English. "Gabby Douglas and Usain Bolt. The best of the best. You were just faster than both of them combined."


	10. Chapter 10

It took a significant effort not to fall over. What had happened to me? The tennis ball dropped to the floor, my hand suddenly limp. My brother glanced at it, and I gave him a stern look.

"No. You are not throwing things at me to test whatever this is. We are going to go with your Internet plan."

"But-"

"No buts."

Quiet giggling ensued, and I rolled my eyes.

"Real mature, Danny. Now come on."

The passcode I had set was made with my brother's help, a secure series of numbers and letters that would be nearly impossible to crack.

Danny, of course, bypassed it in about three minutes.

"You really need to upgrade your security."

"You made my security!"

"Did I?" He groaned. "Damn, I'm getting rusty. Thirteen-year old me would be nowhere near a CIA watchlist."

"You are not supposed to be near a CIA watchlist-"

"Details, details. Oh look, your friends really like their murder."

If I had been drinking something, my computer would be toast. "What?"

"Look." He spun my computer so the screen faced me, and we both crowded near it. It would have been a cute photo, except for the fact that Danny's elbow was digging into my side.

In the brief time I'd let him onto my laptop, my brother had been busy. Several windows were open on my screen, some from conspiracy theorists, some from disgraced professors, and more than a few from government websites. What all of them had in common were pictures of the alien I'd seen today. Some of them were taller, some of them had lighter or darker skin, but they all had yellow eyes and the same basic body type. 

"Holy crap. How did you find this?"

"Simple. I input the parameters of the thing you saw today into several algorithms. They scanned the web and found scenarios where things matching the Zhiradji description have been found, wherever they are. Some of those scenarios are pretty familiar, and not in a good way. The Tylenol murders, D.B. Cooper, 2001's anthrax attacks, and a hell of a lot more."

I leaned in closer. "The Zodiac Killer? From a government website? You've got to be kidding me."

"Unfortunately, no. At the last suspected murder site, a beach near Lompoc, FBI agents were called in when an inhuman corpse was found in a structure that failed to be burned to the ground. Upon closer inspection, the body looked half like the suspected sketch of the Zodiac Killer and half like what you saw today. The remains were delivered to a different site under the privy of-" He cursed. "That's as far as I could get, except for one other word. What is S.H.I.E.L.D.?"

"Maybe it's some black ops alien thing. Like Mulder and Scully. As long as they're not coming after us, I suggest we leave them be." I took a breath, trying to swallow my unease. "So, not only are they experts at murder, they can change forms?"

"That's what I think. He probably died when he was between one look and another."

"Well, that's fantastic. Anything else I should know?"

"What is 'guy who's probably going to become Doctor Frankenstein'?" Danny phrased it like a Jeopardy question, his attempt to cheer me up. It worked, at least partially. If you weren't at least a little nervous during something like this, you weren't paying attention.

The corner of my mouth turned up. "Do tell."

He typed something into my search bar, and a new Web page popped up. The man pictured looked to be in his late fifties, with piercing green eyes, mahogany skin, a bulbous nose, and rumpled dark hair threaded with silver.

"Meet Dr. Dinesh Khatri. He used to work for Stark Industries until 2012, when his lab in Stark Tower got blown to bits by the Chitauri. He was out of a job and in a wheelchair, and with all the other things to pick up after New York got decimated, the poor guy slipped through the cracks. Broke, unemployed, homeless, Khatri made ends meet by selling Chitauri technology over the Internet. While doing so, he became quite the expert on their race and how they operated. That attracted the attention of several other parties, who were willing to stretch a lot of tentacles out to get ahold of him."

"Don't tell me-"

"Yep. In the spring of 2015, the good doctor posted a social media status saying that he'd gotten a new job at a company called Echidna Capital Management. So I did some digging, and guess what? Their facilities have a ridiculous amount of power usage. Way more than a company like theirs would need. And on the day the helicarriers fell, their CEO suddenly resigned. A CEO that told the world he hailed from the Greek region of Lernea. Can you tell me why that's suspicious? Because I know why that's suspicious, and I think you do too."

I blew out a frustrated breath. "In mythology, Lernea was the region that the hydra of Hercules' second task lived in. They aren't even being subtle. What happened to Khatri, and how can he help us?"

"On that note, I actually don't know." Danny scuffed his shoes on the floor, clearly uncomfortable. "If he kept a journal, it's analog. I'm good with computers. Finding a possibly nonexistent diary that's likely Hydra property by now? Way out of my wheelhouse. The good news is that the company website is still up and running. Whoever Hydra hired to do their web design is flat-out awful at their job, not to mention at protective coding. Either that, or nobody is on the site to maintain the security. In a few clicks, I'll have all the dirty secrets of the Echidna building where Dr. Khatri worked. Time me, would you?"

Cracking his knuckles, my brother got to work. His fingers flew across the keyboard, face tense with concentration. Focused though he might be, that did nothing to stop the stream of chatter issuing from his mouth.

"Hail this, jackasses."

"Oh my god, there's like fifty love triangles."

"Danny North-1. Internet Nazis-0."

"I've seen better firewalls on Atari games."

"Have fun trying to get all your work back. Eugenics doesn't pay."

After seven minutes, Danny leaned back with a smirk the size of Virginia Beach. "Well, that was productive. Not to mention my greatest feat of computer wizardry to date."

"What exactly did you do?"

"Copied every single file of Khatri's notes onto Microsoft Word, changed their web background to gag-me orange and put Echidna's nearest super secret lab on Google Maps, Twitter, Tumblr and the SI website as ARREST US ASAP."

"Why are you pissing off Nazis?" I resisted the urge to strangle him. "Were three calls to the office a month not enough?"

He was serene. "Tony Stark is Iron Man. Iron Man is a better hacker than I am. No, I am not too proud to admit that. If AVENGERS ROUT HYDRA LAB isn't in the news tomorrow, I'll run around the house in my underwear."

"I'll hold you to that."

"I know you will. Anyway, Khatri's notes say some pretty interesting stuff. The metal armor on the Chitauri was fused to their bone structure, and they didn't originally have a hive mind. He thinks something else did that to them. Something that left massive brands carved into their backs."

The screen shifted to a gray back with symbols all over it. It was unmistakably a Chitauri corpse. Except the writing on the skin looked familiar. Wait, how did I know it was writing?

As I watched, the words changed, coiling and splitting apart until they made up the letters of the alphabet. Those letters formed a sentence I wished to Thor I hadn't seen.

_SUBJECT 375960485 ___

____

____

"Danny, I can read that writing. It says Subject and then a ridiculously high number. The Chitauri were lab experiments who leveled New York. The Zhiradji must have loaned them out to Loki for his revenge bender. Now they don't have any experiments, and they want to take over the people who did that to them. Sure, they need more planets for their sick Mengele fantasies, but this is also personal."

"We're not just on a to-do list. We're a target."


	11. Chapter 11

"Let me get this straight. Aliens are coming after us because we broke their petri dish?"

"That, and they've got a pretty big superiority complex. Think the Roman Empire mixed with mad scientists."

Danny looked like he'd been smacked between the eyes. I bit my lip. If I had my way, he wouldn't be involved in this at all. This was way bigger and way more dangerous than I had ever imagined, and the ability to grab tennis balls would not help against an entire alien armada. No way was I dragging my brother into this. 

"You know, you don't have to be involved in this."

Blue eyes narrowed into chips of ice. "And you do?"

"Yes. If I can do something against this, I'm obligated to do it."

"Well, that's stupid." He leaned over and slapped me on the back of the head. Before I could retaliate, he continued. "You've just been fired, Mom's just been fired, and you're in an abusive relationship. Do you seriously think you can deal with all that and save the world?"

As if on cue, my computer pinged. Someone had just emailed me, and I had a sinking feeling that I knew exactly who it was.

"Go away, Danny."

I didn't wait to see if he'd listened, clicking on my inbox. My fingers felt like lead as I scanned the brief message, the butterflies in my stomach hacking away with machetes.

From: tqueen@gmail.com 

___To: northstar13@gmail.com ____ _

_____Subject: Weekly Date ____ _ _ _

_______Katherine, ____ _ _ _ _ _

_________I've gotten us tickets to the National Zoo tomorrow. I'm sure the elephants will be happy to see you. Don't be late, darling. ____ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

___________Love, _  
_Tanya ______ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________With shaking hands, I closed the email. I'd completely forgotten about the weekly date. The crack about my weight hurt, but was much better than what it could have been. Bitch, slut, Jezebel, harpy, shrew-if there was a demeaning term for the female sex, I'd likely heard it by now. Tanya did not pull her punches when I disagreed with her._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________As if this week hadn't been shitty enough._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________"What the hell is going on?"_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________I whirled, nearly falling out of the chair. Danny stood in front of me, arms crossed over his chest. Even though he was a foot shorter than me, he still managed to look intimidating._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________"It's nothing, Danny. Just a date with Tanya."_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________His face darkened. "That's the problem."_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________"If you have an issue with my sexuality-"_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________"No!" My brother looked horrified. "It actually explains a lot of things. Bisexual means you like both boys and girls, right?"_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________"Yes."_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________"Now you've got double the options. I don't see how that's a bad thing."_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________"Then what's the problem?"_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________Danny looked at me like I had just asked what two plus two was. "The problem is that she is being abusive towards you."_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________"No, she isn't!"_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________"Really? Maybe I should look through your emails and see if that's still the case."_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________Tears pricked the corners of my eyes. I'd never wanted to get my brother involved in this. It was horrible enough to be the person in the relationship. I could only imagine what he'd say if he saw the vitriol Tanya could spit out and the malice she was capable of._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________I couldn't lie to him any more. It was time to come clean._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________"Yes, Danny. She's abusive."_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________The whole story came spilling out. Our first meeting. How she'd taken over my life. What she'd done, and how I realized she wasn't who I thought. That March night. I don't know when I started crying, but by the end the tears were flowing so much that I couldn't see his face._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________Not that I wanted to. I had kept so much from him, and he had every right to be furious with me. My head drooped, ready to bear his angry tirade._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________He was silent for so long that I wasn't sure if I was still there. I gripped the blanket tightly as the seconds ticked by._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________Then he did something I never thought he would do. Danny reached over and fiercely hugged me._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________I nearly fell over when I felt his arms wrap around me. My brother was not a hugger by any stretch of the imagination. It was a family joke that when he hugged someone, it meant that they were about to die. Unwillingly, I flinched, the unexpected touch bringing back some painful memories._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________"My God, Kat. I never thought-"_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________"What? That I would be so dumb as to walk right into an abusive relationship? I trusted her, Danny. She was kind and generous and confident when I needed all of that. She's right, I'm naive. I never saw any of it coming, and now it's biting me in the ass and I can't get out of it. She's powerful, I don't know what she'll do if I say I don't want her. Hell, she nearly beat a kid to death for trying to help me, and never received any punishment. What if she goes after you? Or Mom? Or Dad? I don't know how to stop her, I don't know how to leave, I don't know anything anymore!"_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________Danny's grip slackened as he turned to look right at me. My eyes widened as I saw the anger in his face._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________My brother didn't get angry easily, preferring to taunt and tease when upset with someone. I'd only ever seen him truly furious a few times in my life. Once when he got in trouble for something he didn't do. Another time when he got a D in a class he knew he was fantastic at. This was the third time, and it was not something I liked seeing. When Danny got angry, it usually meant someone was going to regret it._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________"No. If you blame yourself one more time I'm deleting your Tumblr. The one at fault here is Tanya. She doesn't get to do something like this to you." His words were even, but I could hear the ire simmering underneath forced calm._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________"Here is what will happen. You'll go to the zoo with Tanya."_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________"Danny, no-"_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________"I'm not finished." A curt tone cut off my protest. "Wherever she says to meet, go a few feet away from that area. It'll be crowded in the summer, so it's unlikely that she'll see you right away. Let her work up a full head of steam, then go somewhere where you're directly in her line of sight, as well as in sight of the general public."_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________"I don't see where you're going with this."_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________His face changed to a slightly crueler version of his pranking grin. "Oh, you will. She'll come barreling towards you, angry enough to drop her cold facade. Be slightly difficult with her, let her push you around a little. Then I'll take a photo at the right moment."_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________"And post it on the Internet? Danny, she'll kill you!"_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________"Again, crowds. I'll run off and blend in."_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________Nerves flared in my stomach, but for the first time I could feel excitement along with them. If this worked, Tanya would be completely ruined. Even if the Strykers somehow lawyered her out of it, what's posted to the web stays on there for a long time._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________"How will you get there? It's a fair distance from our house."_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________"I'll tag along with you."_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________"Absolutely not." I twisted my pillow for emphasis. "She will be incredibly suspicious if she learns you're my brother."_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________"Does she know how I behave?"_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________I shook my head._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________"Perfect. I can play the role of the bratty younger sibling, and you can be the exasperated older sister. We'll improvise from there."_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________He pulled my blanket over his body, leaving none for me. I groaned. If he was going with that plan, he wouldn't even have to act that much for it to work. Still, it was very dangerous. We'd have to maneuver around Mom and Dad, bring a discreet camera or one that was easy to hide, make sure Danny knew how to move fast in a crowd, and fool one of the most socially adept people I'd ever met._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________Piece of cake? More like piece of stale cracker._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________"And you're sure Mom and Dad won't be able to find out? If this goes ugly, we'll be sued on the salary of two fired people and one lawyer."_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________"If they find out, I'm blaming you."_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________"Hey!"_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________"Kidding. Now let's solve this first. We can deal with aliens after this whole debacle is solved."_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _


	12. Chapter 12

I eyed the oblivious zoogoers, milling back and forth between exhibits. While I don't usually like being ignored, today was an exception. We'd avoided Mom and Dad easily enough, spinning a lie about Danny wanting to meet his friends at the zoo. They practically champed at the bit to have me go with him, wary of the troublemaker sibling heading to a public place unsupervised. I'm sure they're still shell-shocked from his toddler years.

Tanya had met us at the entrance, greeting me with the usual kiss and veiled insult. It took a death glare of epic proportions to get my brother not to roll his eyes. After a brief discussion about Danny, which involved immaturity, sweet talk, and way too much PDA, she reluctantly allowed him to come, but I could see that she was suspicious. And when a Stryker got suspicious, bad things tended to happen.

We started at the Great Cat exhibit, where the lions and tigers seemed unusually interested in me. Wherever I walked, they would follow, their eyes fixed on me even when I looked away. Maybe it's because I looked like prey. I certainly felt like it.

From there, we went to the kid's farm, though we had to leave in a hurry when Tanya loudly compared a pregnant woman to a farm animal.

"It's true. That must be what, her third kid? Fourth? Those black women have no idea when to pull out."

We argued about what she'd said all the way to the Mane Grill, where things only got worse. She treated our server like crap, ordered a ridiculous amount of food, ate none of it, complained about everything, wouldn't let me eat anything while giving Danny whatever he wanted, and then made me pay the painfully expensive bill. There went my entire (and probably my last) paycheck, and a large portion of what I'd saved up to buy Danny that new video game he wanted for his birthday.

After that, we headed to the Amazonia exhibit, where Tanya made her way to the restroom, ordering us to wait for her in the hot sun.

Danny turned to me, his face red from the heat. "I'd have given you a hot dog, but-"

"She was watching. I know."

"How can you keep doing this? I've been in her presence for two hours and I want to throw her to the lions."

"She was nicer before. But I suppose you never really know someone until you disagree with them."

The restroom door swung open, narrowly missing an elderly man. Tanya strode towards us, looking every inch the supermodel with skin smooth as marble, designer clothing, and an elegant ponytail. Meanwhile, I was sweating like a sinner in church, wore a ratty Black Widow T-shirt and jeans, and had hair so tangled it could give a thornbush a heart attack.

Sighing at me with more than a hint of condescension, she headed for the exhibit doors. I followed in her wake.

A squawk from the nearest enclosure was the first thing I heard when I entered Amazonia. Curious, I glanced to the left to see what had made the noise. It was an open-air exhibit, with several roseate spoonbills milling about on an artificial island. One squawked again, clearly pleased with itself. The shallow water around the island was occupied by several types of Amazonian fish and what looked like a stingray. A glass wall that reached to about waist height was the only barrier, largely to prevent smaller children from falling in.

Danny leaned forward, trying to spot a particular fish. His arm reached out to the water, and I slapped it.

"Hey!"

"I can't believe I have to say this, but no stealing zoo animals. If you embarrass me in public I swear I'll dunk you in that water myself."

"Killjoy." He stuck his tongue out at me before wandering over to look at the piranhas.

_He would never catch us, but we appreciate the effort._

The voice echoed in my head, the speaker sounding like they were gargling. I bravely managed not to faint. Glancing to the side, I saw that Danny was staring at the piranhas with way more interest than I was comfortable with. Tanya was loudly arguing with someone on her cell phone. Neither of them seemed to be aware someone else had spoken.

_Look down._

I did as the voice said, not wanting to respond verbally. Acting crazy in public was something one generally wanted to avoid. It took me a minute, but I did see something odd. In the corner of the tank, seven fish were gathered, all of them looking right at me. I blinked, then looked again. They hadn't moved, nor broken eye contact.

Taking a cue from comic books, I formed my response in my head, hoping I wasn't actually crazy for trying.

_Are you really talking to me like this?_

_We think constantly. You can just hear us, like the last Waterbearer could hear our ancestors._

I grabbed the edge of the barrier to steady myself. I wasn't crazy. This was really happening. I was talking to fish in my mind, and apparently I wasn't the only person who could. My mind drifted to Thuye's words, about how I was the latest Protector. I knew the National Zoo had opened in 1889, more than one hundred years ago. How long had the cycle been going on? Why did she think I could defeat the aliens, if those who came before me couldn't?

A new voice interrupted my thoughts, the nasal tone marking it as something slightly different than a fish.

_Is the Stryker bothering you?_

I flinched, both at the mention of Tanya and the sudden movement of the stingray. It glided over to rest in a sunny area, though I knew it was waiting for an answer. I didn't know why I knew that, I just did.

_How do you know about the Strykers?_

_The lions told the birds, who told the insects, who told us. They don't often come, but when they do it is the animals who suffer. Now, is it hurting you?_

The demeaning pronoun the stingray used brought a faint smile to my face. It quickly faded, though, when I realized I didn't know how I'd answer the question. I didn't want an animal to get hurt for my benefit, not even if it meant putting Tanya in her place. But I also didn't want to offend an animal that had the word "sting" in its name.

"Katherine North!"

I whirled, the sound of my full name sending a chill up my spine. Tanya stormed towards me, dragging Danny with her. She had a firm grip on his upper arm, and I could see her nails digging deeply into his skin.

What had my brother done now? And how the hell could I get him out of it?

Danny let out a pained grunt as she let go of his arm. He stumbled into the wall as Tanya rounded on me, but I could see a glint in his eye.

It took a superhuman effort not to strangle him right then and there. The little shit had planned whatever this was to get her mad. Obviously getting manhandled wasn't part of his plan, but besides that he looked to be in a prime spot to take a photo.

Now I just had to deliver on my end of the plan. Which wouldn't be hard. I'd put up with her for too long, not knowing when to put my foot down. Today I had the chance, because today Tanya had crossed a line.

I like to think that I'm a nice person. However, there is a notable exception. You insult me? Fine by me. You insult my friends or family? No fucking way.

"You make your brat apologize to me right now or there will be consequences."

I turned to face Tanya, who looked positively apopleptic. If there was one thing I could count on my brother for, it was pissing people off. "What did he do?"

"He called me a racist."

An ungodly snort escaped my mouth, more like an elephant's mating call than a laugh.

"Why are you laughing? Have him apologize right now!"

"I don't think I can make him apologize for something that's true."

Dead silence. For the first time in my life, I had shut Tanya Stryker up. And it felt great.

Unfortunately, it didn't last. After a moment, she regained her composure, eyes flashing with rage. "You take that back right now, you little Russian bitch!"

"No, I won't. In fact, I'm not done. You're more racist than the 1915 Birth of a Nation film. You insult and demean anyone who disagrees with you. You use white privilege and money to get away with horrible things. You nearly beat a kid to death and got away with it. You're ridiculously LGBTQ-phobic despite being a lesbian yourself. You're disgustingly ableist. You use other people to get what you want and discard them like trash afterwards. You treat poor people like animals, and animals like your own personal punching bags. You used the fact that I'd never been in a non-heterosexual relationship to abuse the crap out of me!"

I paused, fixing her furious stare with one of my own.

"I don't know what I ever saw in you. Maybe it was everything I never had. But I know better now. We're done, Tanya."

"What?"

"We're done. I'm breaking up with you."

She looked like she'd been electrocuted, eyes glassy with shock and mouth wide open. I took the opportunity to go over to Danny, whose brows were drawn low with concern. That was another result of being in an abusive relationship, I thought to myself. You learned to read faces quickly or you paid the emotional price.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah." He didn't meet my eyes.

"You're a shitty liar." I glanced at his arm. Among the black and blue skin and thin cuts from her nails was a rough red line, deeply indented into the flesh. "She didn't just grab you. What else did Tanya do to you?"

"Indian burn with her purse handle."

"We'll put cold water on it when we get home, tell Mom you ran into the fencing."

"How do you know how to treat an abrasion-"

Danny's question was cut off by an irate shriek. Tanya's brain must have finally caught up to what I said, for she looked ready to murder someone, that someone being me. The gathered crowd parted like the Red Sea as she stalked towards us, a scowl darkening her face. Instinctively, I pushed Danny to the side, his annoyed response lost in the blood rushing in my ears.

"You don't get to break up with me! You're nothing without me!"

I backed up, only to feel the glass barrier push into my spine. If I retreated any further, I'd be in the water, and I doubted the zoo workers would like that.

Tanya's hand slipped into the water, but she didn't seem to notice what had happened or care what the zoo workers thought. Possibly both.

"Take back what you said right now, and I might forgive you."

"No, you won't."

"No, I won't."

She smiled triumphantly, no doubt ready to unleash another barrage of insults. But before she could, I heard another voice, and it wasn't out loud.

_I come, Waterbearer._

That was all the warning I got. I watched with a mix of shock and a little bit of vindictive pleasure as the stingray whipped its tail up and struck.

Tanya, completely focused on tearing me a new one, was absolutely unaware that she was in striking range. Her scream could have shattered glass, had she been so inclined. Tears streamed down her face as she waved her hand around, the stinger protruding from the bloody skin like a spear. She then bent down and threw up on the floor before continuing to scream her head off.

The zoogoers began to panic, shoving each other out of the way as they all ran for the exit.

Danny gave me a dirty look. "Way to keep a low profile, genius."

"That was not my fault!"

"Have fun explaining that to the zoo police."


	13. Chapter 13

If there was one bit of good news, it was that the zoo police were not Stryker fans. From the hall bench outside the zoo police station's main office, I could hear bits and pieces of a heated conversation.

"What do you mean I have to pay a fine? They did it too!"

I groaned. Real classy, Tanya. Play the blame game while ignoring your own culpability. While underhanded, it wasn't new behavior for her. What worried me was the mention of a fine. I'd already coughed up a borderline obscene amount of money to pay for Tanya's Mane Grill "meal". Ten dollars was all I had left, and unless the police accepted bartering, it was nowhere near enough to pay a federal fine.

Danny seemed remarkably nonchalant about our impending punishment. Then again, this was likely his field of expertise. Stretching back to his kindergarten years, my brother had always butted heads with authority figures, holding the school record for office trips and tardy slips. I was the exact opposite, never talking back or breaking rules. My parents had enough to deal with without adding another problem child to the mix. I was what most people consider the goody two-shoes. That is, until this week. In the span of two days, I'd gotten both me and my mom fired, aided a known criminal, and broken zoo regulations. Talk about a one-eighty.

As if on cue, the door in front of us was flung open. Tanya marched past us, not even stopping for an insult. She was so mad, I was sure I could smell sulfur in her wake.

"You'll be hearing from my lawyer!"

The threat was directed at the man inside the room, who looked unfazed. He was dark-skinned and built like a brick wall, approaching six feet with biceps that could probably be classified as lethal weapons. Tawny eyes sized us up, uncomfortably like the tigers we'd seen earlier. The nametag on his chest read CICERO.

"What's a guy like this doing working at the zoo?" 

I winced at Danny's loud whisper. While he had a point, I did not need his irreverence right now.

Thankfully, the man didn't seem to have heard him. He looked down, then muttered something, seemingly to himself. I likely wasn't meant to hear it, but I have stupidly good hearing, not to mention enough curiosity to kill a hundred cats.

"So these are Numarev's children."

The name sounded Russian, which was odd. More importantly, why did he seem to think we were related to that person? It was a mystery for sure, but no way was I bringing it up with a man who looked like he could bench press a Mack truck.

Cicero lifted his head, turning to look at me. "Have you called your parents?"

My heart plunged into my lower intestine. I still had to talk over the whole possibly-getting-you-fired thing with Mom, and now there was this to deal with too. At this rate, I'd be six feet under before the day was out. Not to mention that this would be my first police encounter besides Say No To Drugs, and I had no idea how she'd deal with both her kids getting in trouble with the cops. Well, technically they were zoo cops, but I was pretty sure they still counted.

"No, sir."

"One of you should do that. I'll discuss things with the other person. Do you two have a preference as to who does what?"

I pointed at Danny as fast as I could. "He's calling our parents."

"What? Don't I get to pick?"

"Not after last July, you don't." 

"That was your fault! You trusted me with fireworks!"

"For the record, 'I got this' does not inspire confidence!"

A cough interrupted our bickering. Cicero was looking at us both, the faintest hint of a smile in his eyes. His mouth, however, remained as serious as a grave. "Phone's down the hall."

Danny took the opportunity to bolt down the hall as fast as he could. I sighed loudly, hoping he didn't crash into anyone along the way.

Cicero opened the office door, and I followed him into the room. It looked fairly simple, with a chair in front of a desk and a chair behind it, a bookshelf up against the wall, and brown wallpaper that could blind M.C Escher. 

He settled into the desk chair, before gesturing to the other one.

"Please, take a seat."

I did as he asked, gripping the sides to steady myself. Normally, I'm pretty agile, but stress does bad things to my reflexes.

"Ms. North, do you know the penalty for breaking zoo regulations?"

"No-" I paused mid-sentence, a realization hitting me. "Hang on. I never told you my name. How do you know my name?"

Cicero didn't blink, or even try to lie. He just groaned. "I'm getting rusty."

"Rusty at what?"

"Look, kid, I know your mother. That's all I can tell you right now."

A knock sounded at the door, and a second later it swung open. 

"Leave, please."

It took me a minute to place who had spoken, her voice sounded so odd. I turned around just to make sure it was who I thought.

"Mom?"

She caught my eye for a moment, and what I saw there troubled me. My mom didn't scare easily. Dad was the one who screamed bloody murder if there was a mouse. The point was, there wasn't much that could make her look the way she did right now. Mom looked terrified.

"Danny's outside, I need you to watch him. Please go."

Her voice trembled on the last word, and I could see she had been crying. I didn't need any more encouragement. I went out of that room as fast as my legs could carry me.

My brother met me on the bench, eyes fixed on the shut door. I knew what he was thinking, and I didn't like it.

"If you even think about eavesdropping-"

"Come on, don't tell me you aren't curious. Mom never speaks Russian, but I could hear her muttering in it while I was on the line. Something about the widow never wanting to return to the web."

"Spider metaphors? In Russian?"

I was so focused on this new information that I forgot to focus on Danny for a while. And that while was all he needed. When I looked up, he was over by the door, listening intently.

"You little-"

"Hey, you're too easy to fool. Don't blame me for that."

I glared at him. "I am not letting you get caught, again, doing stupid shit at the zoo. The first time was my fault, the second time won't be. Get over here now."

"Make me."

"That's it." I started to rise from the bench, but angry Russian yelling interrupted me.

"< My children are at stake here, you son of a- >"

"< I cannot help you, Ana! That is final. >"

I jumped as Mom stormed out of the room, slamming the door so hard that the hinges rattled. Danny had to dive away to avoid being brained. I'd never seen her this angry, not even during the Albert situation.

"Mom, what happened? What about the fine?"

She looked lost for a minute, then turned to me. "It's been paid. We need to go home, now."

That was not a good enough explanation, but I was too chicken to press the matter further. 

Danny was not. 

"Why do we have to go right away? How do you know that guy? Why did he call you a spy?"

"Daniel Logan North, you are in no place to talk to me right now. You and your sister lied to me, broke zoo rules, and got Katherine's friend, who I've never heard of before now, involved in whatever this was. You are in enough trouble to be grounded for life, mister." 

Mom didn't yell this time, but she made her point. Danny was silent all the way to the car, at which point he started to mutter questions under his breath at me.

"How much do you want to bet that Cicero is an alias?"

"When the dude said spy, did he mean blow-things-up spy or poison-in-your-coffee spy?"

"Why hasn't Mom brought up the Albert situation since it happened?"

They were interesting at first, but by the twentieth one I wanted to slam his head in the car door.

I was seconds away from my debut at murder when we rounded the corner to our house. Mom's stifled gasp put all thoughts of homicide out of my mind. Following her gaze, I saw what had startled her. In front of our house were parked three black cars, complete with tinted windows and a generally shady aura. 

"They're here."


	14. Chapter 14

Mom looked us both dead in the eye, her expression grave. "Follow me inside, and do exactly as I say. Danny, that means you."

My brother started to say something, but then thought better of it. He looked at me with more than one question in his eyes. Since we were tiny, I had gotten used to answering Danny's questions. My brain or a quick Google search usually gave him the answers he needed, and he was more than willing to use and abuse my research powers. Even though he was too lazy to look up the answers himself, I always obliged him. Not because I wanted to do so all the time, but because he had excellent blackmail material. When there was a question I didn't particularly want to answer, he'd bring up my cell phone texts, ill-advised dares, or other embarrassing incidents. Just because I was generally a good kid didn't mean I wasn't stupid on occasion.

This time, though, I wasn't sure I could answer him. Neither of us had any clue what the answer was.

We both knew that Mom rarely made us do things, preferring to ask us when she needed something done. For her to force us to do something, on top of the altercation earlier, was very out of character for her. The reasons that I could think of weren't that great-mortal peril, natural disaster, or something along those lines. Not really things I wanted to think about when there were strangers nearby.

Our house wasn't impressive by any means. A one-story wooden abode that was closer to a cottage than an actual house, it had dilapidated gutters, a cracked window, and an enchanted forest's worth of moss on the roof. It would last about 1.8 seconds in a fire or similar occurrence.

Why, then, would people who had enough money for three Chevy Impalas be interested in it?

The boot print on the front door stood out like a sore thumb. Someone had kicked it, and recently too.

"That's a military boot. I have a friend who wears them."

"Not helping, Danny."

Mom dug her keys out of her purse, easing them into the lock. A few turns, and the door opened silently. My eyes widened. That door had creaked every year I'd lived here, and it would probably creak until the end of time. You'd have to be some sort of secret agent to open it without noise.

The hall lights were on, which was bad. I knew I'd turned them off when I left, and Dad liked to save energy, so he couldn't have turned them on. Which meant someone else had.

"Hello, _sestra _."__

__Only by biting my lip did I prevent myself from screaming out loud. Standing at the end of the hall was Dad. His white shirt was spotted with red, his tie and belt were nowhere to be found, and the beginnings of a black eye were forming on his face. He looked like he'd been through the wringer, but that wasn't what scared me.__

__Dad wasn't the only one there._ _ __Behind him were three strangers, two men and a woman._ _

__The woman who looked to be the leader was a few feet shorter than Mom, with a lithe build and icy blue eyes. Short blonde hair gave her some resemblance to Tanya, but there the similarities ended. She wore a black tactical uniform, complete with military boots, with what looked like chunky bracelets on her wrists. She moved with the same controlled grace Hotaru had, and I knew instinctively that this woman had done shady things before._ _

__The second woman was younger. Much younger. I saw with disbelieving eyes that the person I thought was a woman was in fact around my age. She had dark brown hair in a tight braid, gray eyes, and a light dusting of freckles across her nose and cheeks. She wore the same uniform, but with no bracelets. Instead, I saw a thin wire with a metal handle at her side, glinting in the hallway light. A garrote. The word came to me from my history textbook, along with several ugly mental images of the weapon's end result._ _

__I thought the first two people were scary enough, but the last one made me want to run screaming out the door. He towered over his companions, grinning with pointed teeth. If Cicero was built like a brick wall, this man was built like an iron one. A long mane of blond hair, with matching sideburns, made him look like a homicidal Bigfoot, and the claws on his hands and feet only added to the effect. His eyes were amber, with vertical pupils. They held a simmering rage inside them, one that could explode at any moment. Yet still he smiled, clearly enjoying my fear._ _

__We all stared at each other, some confused, others reviewing the situation. The wild man's eyes remained on me, flicking up and down my body in a thoroughly lecherous fashion. Finally, he spoke, tearing his gaze away. I breathed a sigh of relief._ _

__"They didn't tell me you had pups. This is gonna be fun."_ _

__To her credit, Mom didn't flinch, though the same couldn't be said for me. She ignored the man, looking directly at the blonde woman._ _

__" < Yelena, who are your comrades? I do not know them. >"_ _

__Yelena smiled. " < Victor is an associate of ours, though he prefers to be addressed as Sabretooth. Given your history with one of his rivals, he was rather eager to come. Think of him as insurance. Svetlana here is a new recruit. For her, this is a field trip of sorts. >"_ _

__Svetlana stared at her boots, and I got the feeling that she would rather be anywhere other than the field trip. She shuffled her feet, and I noticed she was holding a large paper bag in her right hand._ _

__Danny had noticed it too, and his eyes lit up with recognition. I elbowed him, but it was too late. Yelena had seen his face change._ _

__"Ah, you noticed our peace offering. Blintzes, borscht, all the Russian cuisine you could ever want. We'll sit down, have dinner, and this doesn't have to get messy."_ _

__Even though I was hungry enough that food from strangers sounded just fine, I could hear the implied threat. All three of us were unarmed. Our guests were very much not. Hell, I was pretty sure Victor could take down a platoon without breaking a sweat. I knew a super villain when I saw one, even if I had no idea why he knew my mom._ _

__Mom spat out something unflattering in Russian, then took a deep breath. "We accept your terms."_ _


	15. Chapter 15

Just like that, Yelena went from homicidal stranger to kindly neighbor. With a smile, she made her way into the dining room, placing the paper bag onto our yard-sale table. Out of it came pirozhki, borscht, beef stroganoff, pelmeni, and a bunch of other Russian dishes I'd never heard of. Cheap Russian food wasn't exactly commonplace in DC.

After she'd put several plates, silverware, and glasses onto the table, which were as high-quality as the food looked, she turned to us, the smile still on her face.

"Come on, then. It'll get cold."

Yelena took the seat at the head of the table, frowning when the chair creaked underneath her. Svetlana slid into the chair to her left, looking like she was about to vomit. Mom and Dad sat next to each other, both of them looking pensive.

I claimed a seat near Danny, twining my hand with his. When he felt my hand, he gripped it tightly, his nails digging into my palm. I didn't know what to say to him. I'm sorry? It'll be okay? I settled for squeezing his hand and hoping he knew it meant all the things I couldn't say now.

The brief moment of peace was shattered by Sabretooth, who stalked into the room from Thor knows where. A lazy smile spread across his face, his pointed teeth stained with red.

"Aw, look at the pup! He's scared, the poor runt."

Danny made an undignified squeaking noise, the color draining from his cheeks. Sabretooth ignored him, making his way towards the table. He gave the room a cursory glance, his eyes sweeping the room. Then his gaze landed on me, and I nearly swallowed my esophagus.

"Seems like the frail has an open seat. Don't mind if I do."

Taking my non-answer as a yes, he lowered himself into the chair next to mine. I bit my lip, staring intently at the red filigree on my plate. No way was I giving this bastard the satisfaction of knowing he'd gotten to me.

With the clink of a fork on a glass, the meal began. Plates were piled high, cups were filled, and napkins were put in laps. The dishes rotated counterclockwise around the table, each person taking what they wanted from them. Yelena had a large bowl of borscht and a glass of something that smelled like lemons and antiseptic. Svetlana preferred the beef stroganoff, taking hesitant bites from it. Mom and Dad had pelmeni and pirozhki, though they focused more on each other than the food. Danny took a little of everything, nearly breaking the plate with his enthusiasm.

I didn't see what Sabretooth had taken, nor did I want to, but judging by the smell, it was less Russian cuisine and more raw meat. My stomach twisted as I heard him chewing loudly, punctuated by a splat every now and then. Great. Not only would our rug need a cleaning we couldn't afford, the jerk had no table manners.

"Why are you not eating, Katya?"

Yelena's voice rang out, and I jumped. No one in my family had ever referred to me by any Russian translation of my name. They called me Kitty, or Kat, or Kiska when we were at home, or Katherine when they were mad or serious. Kiska was Russian, sure, but it was a nickname, and one I liked. Katya sounded harsh and alien, and not even remotely like who I was.

I looked down, only to see that I hadn't taken any food. I had been too busy trying not to scream, or cry, or throw up, or all of the above. Home invasions did that to a person. I was still hungry, but now that I thought about it, taking food from strangers would be a catastrophically bad idea, especially if they wanted something from us. Plus, it was likely the only way I could make a point without getting killed.

Pushing the food away, I shook my head. "I'm not hungry, thanks."

Yelena's eyes darkened to the color of an oncoming blizzard. She hissed something in French at Mom, the soft vowels in the words mangled by her harsh tone. I didn't speak French, except for a few words gathered from various books, but even I could tell she was very angry with both Mom and me.

To my shock, Mom snapped out a reply, her pronunciation flawless except for the vitriol present in her voice. A rejoinder from Dad followed, his normally smooth timbre uncharacteristically brusque. Yelena's nostrils flared, and the three of them began an argument in a language I knew almost none of.

Even if I could, I was too stunned to follow along. Both of my parents knew fluent French. How did they know it? Why did they know it? Why had they kept it a secret? It was just a language, for crying out loud!

A harsh grip on my arm dragged me out of my daze, the force of it bringing tears to my eyes. Snapping my head to the side, I saw Sabretooth's clawed hand encircling my wrist, the points of his claws pricking my skin.

"They said you'd be trouble, frail." He looked intently at my face, then bared his teeth. "You got a kid stung, people fired, and one of the toughest people I know to go domestic."

I grit my teeth as he pushed down harder. My left hand slumped to the table.

"Now, my boss says I can't kill you. But from the sound of things, negotiations ain't going so great. And she didn't say anything about keeping you intact."

He raised his other hand, talons pointed at my elbow. "Say goodbye to your arm, frail."

Sabretooth started to bring his arm down, but it looked like he was moving through molasses. My reflexes had done something again, like they had with the tennis ball.

I didn't wait to find out how or why, or what would happen when the claws hit. Instinct, as well as several YouTube self-defense videos, took over. I grabbed the nearest butter knife, reared up, and jabbed it down with all my strength.

"AAAARRGHHHH!"

The roar that erupted out of him was louder than a lion's, probably due to the butter knife protruding from his left eye. Sabretooth growled, grabbing at the handle with all his strength. Unfortunately for him, and fortunately for me, he pushed it the wrong way.

SPLURCH.

Svetlana's face turned a vibrant green. From my position on the floor, I had the perfect view as she bent over and vomited into Yelena's soup. Yelena started to yell at her while Dad attempted to calm Svetlana down.

Mom turned to face me, her face ashen. "What did you do?"

"He was going to cut off my arm!"

"Tell me later. Now, get Danny and go to the bathtub."

"Are you sure-"

"Go! Now!"

I ran over to Danny's chair. By now, he had fallen out of it, and was wisely staying low to the floor. The only remaining color in his face was two spots of red high on his cheeks. I'd never seen him this scared in my life, and never wanted to again.

Hauling him to his feet, I pulled him out of the dining room. He was a better athlete, but I was in panic mode. Still, he felt a lot lighter than he used to as I half-yanked, half-carried him to the other side of the house. I was so focused on getting him out that I didn't hear him complaining until I shut the door to the family bathroom and dumped him on the tile.

"But Mom and Dad!"

Even a little brother could be right on occasion. I was worried about them too. Pushing him behind me, I opened the door half an inch.

The scream was high and drawn-out, the kind of noise you only heard when someone was hurt. How badly Mom had been hurt, I had no way of knowing besides going to find out. And Thor help me, I couldn't risk that.

I shut the door, slumping against it as I blinked back tears.

"Are they okay, Kit?"

Danny hadn't called me Kit since he was five. 

"They're fine."

For the first time, I lied to my brother.


	16. Chapter 16

Our bathtub, like everything else in the house, wasn't that big. But it was sturdy, and that was why we were there. As a family, our go-to plan for world-threatening events was to huddle in the tub and keep our heads down. We'd done it during the destruction of the helicarriers, and again when Sokovia rose into the air. This was the first time we'd done it without our parents.

Danny half-sat, half-slumped on me, his head leaning on my shoulder as his fingers absentmindedly traced the tile around the faucets. Any other day, I'd make a fuss about being used as a glorified armchair. Not today. Today we had much bigger problems.

Aside from a few fingernail cuts where I'd grabbed him, my brother hadn't suffered any physical injuries from the dining room debacle. While that was a relief, it wasn't my main concern. I'd had a few days to ease into the whole "your life has changed forever" thing, even if I hadn't quite managed it yet. Danny had been thrust into it with no warning at all. First aliens, then Tanya, then creepy Russian guests plus a supervillain. Why he hadn't had a breakdown yet was beyond me, but it was probably past time to check on him.

"Are you okay?"

His laugh sounded like a crow's caw, harsh and raspy. "What do you think? Should I be, after all this?"

"I think that none of us are okay right now. But I'm pretty sure things will be okay soon."

I'd been going for cautious optimism, but what came out was way more revealing of my anxiety than I liked. I cursed internally. Danny was already scared, he didn't need my worried brain making things worse for him.

"You're doing it again." My brother raised his eyebrows, looking absolutely fed up with me.

"Doing what?"

He pulled my arm towards him, and I winced. Was it supposed to hurt that much, or was Danny just being a brat?

"Forgetting about yourself."

I snorted, and Danny glared at me. Picking up my arm, he gestured towards it, nearly hitting the side of the tub with his hand. I looked down, only to see that I wasn't as unscathed as I thought I was. Apparently Sabretooth had left a parting gift. Several, in fact.

Deep red trenches covered my forearm, dripping blood into the white tub. It looked like a plowed field, if the farmer really had it out for the ground.

I turned on the cold water, tears streaming down my face as the water washed out the claw marks. But I didn't cry out. I couldn't cry out. I wouldn't cry out. If I made any noise, they'd find us. I couldn't let that happen. I wouldn't let that happen.

"You have to take better care of yourself."

"Not really an option, what with the whole 'everyone wants to kill us' thing."

"I'm serious, Kitty." He crossed his arms, his body as tense as hiding in a tub would allow it to be. "You let Tanya and Alfred walk all over you, you deliberately antagonized the Three Stooges, and you had every intention of fighting a homicidal alien race alone. You did all of this for other people. When are you going to start doing things for yourself?"

I didn't know how to reply to that, and both of us knew it. Danny opened his mouth again, no doubt ready to drive his point home. But before he could, I heard something that sent shivers down my spine.

I've always had pretty good hearing, and I can identify a sound with decent accuracy. This noise, however, I had no clue about. It was a high whistle, fluctuating up and down in pitch, mixed with a deep hum. If techno music fell under the sway of a demon, it would sound exactly like what I was hearing right now.

I didn't know what it was, but knowing my current luck, it was bad. Lunging at Danny, I gracelessly tackled him to the floor of the tub just as the entire house shook.

A deafening roar filled my ears, the sort of sound that could only have a comic book caption echoing from all around us. The floor rumbled, sending us careening around the tub like pinballs.

"What's going on?"

"I don't know!"

The tile near the front of the tub buckled, hurling the faucets off of the wall. Pent-up hot and cold water poured down onto my shoes from where they used to be.

"Well, this su-"

Danny's complaint was lost in a deep groan. I popped my head up, confused as to how he could make such a loud noise, only to nearly lose my precarious balance when I saw where the groan was coming from.

The walls and ceiling clearly didn't like our current situation. Thin cracks spread throughout them in a spiderweb pattern I'd only seen before on windows, dust raining from the ceiling as the house continued to shake. Even if the tremors miraculously stopped right now, the room still looked like a sneeze could collapse everything. As I watched, the floor rumbled yet again, sending a large fissure snaking up the surface.

My thin shred of hope vanished in an instant. No way were we making it out before it all fell down. Even if the impact didn't kill us outright, asphyxiation and starvation would do the job just as well as blunt force trauma. If it came to that, I almost wanted it to be quick.

Then I remembered the aliens. I remembered the markings on the Chitauri backs, the shifted corpse, the fear in Thuye's voice as she spoke of them. They wouldn't pack up and go away just because there was nobody to fight them. If I wasn't there, it would just encourage them. They'd attack everyone I didn't know. They'd attack everyone I did. They'd attack my enemies, my acquaintances, my friends, my family.

They'd attack Danny. Danny, who wasn't just my brother, but the best friend I'd ever had, even if he got on my nerves.

I clenched my fists, the sudden realization hitting me. If the house didn't kill him, the aliens would.

Not him.

Not my brother.

Not Danny.

"NO!"

The yell burst out of my mouth, a surge of power rising from the bowel of my chest. Energy flooded my senses as something moved down my arms and into my hands.

With a crack, the ceiling collapsed. Danny screamed, covering his head with his hands. But that wouldn't protect against debris the size of an armoire. It was up to me to save us both.

I thrust my arms upward, palms facing the sky. The water around my feet copied my movements, shooting upward with the force of a high-pressure fire hose before shaping itself into a watery dome. Bit by bit, the ceiling plummeted down, followed by the walls. To my shock and awe, the shield I'd made withstood it all. Smaller projectiles, like bricks, crumbled into powder, while larger ones either glanced off the liquid or slid down it.

In a matter of moments, the room had crumbled into ruins. Sunlight filtered through what used to be the roof, shining down onto the water still floating above us. It looked like any other water, except that I could control it. And I had done so. That was the only explanation I had for our survival.

Fatigue washed over me, and I stumbled, nearly tripping over the side of the tub. My legs trembled, like I'd just run a marathon. Except I hadn't. What was wrong with me?

"What are you wearing?"

Danny's question drew my thoughts back to reality. Using my rapidly fading energy, I lowered the water back into the tub before turning to face him. No sense in getting us both soaked.

"Okay, that will never not be weird. But seriously, I think you just pulled a Thor."

"Pulled a Thor?"

"Physically impossible costume change. We don't know where he gets his armor, do we?" He pointed at my chest. "Look at yourself."

Curious, I looked down, only to see that I no longer wore civilian clothing. A form-fitting uniform covered my entire body, with blue piping forming a barrier around a light blue chest and inner thigh. On the other side of the blue piping was a deep navy, which was the color of the neck, shoulders, the sides of the torso, and outer legs. A navy belt encircled my waist, surprisingly comfortable for an article of clothing I'd never worn before. The blue boots were a mix of combat boots and sneakers, sleek and comfy but with treads that felt like they could tackle almost any terrain. To top it off, a domino mask lay on my face, perfectly obscuring my identity.

"I know who you are, dimwit! What exactly was the point of the mask?"

I sighed. Well, almost perfectly.

Staring at what I wore now, several thoughts ran through my head. One, how did my new power, or Thuye, or maybe both, know my style? The fabric wasn't scratchy or chafing, and it had the best qualities of denim, leather, and cotton. The overall style resembled my favorite heroes, the Black Widow and Captain America. It even had my favorite colors!  
How much would something like that cost? Did an alien outfit that came out of nowhere even have a cost?

Two, why did the rest of what I could do show up now, instead of at the dinner table? I would have loved to send the intruders packing instead of being forced into a tense dinner with them. Even a supervillain wouldn't have been that scary if I'd known I could fight him on equal footing.

Three, why did I have a sinking feeling that my water powers showing up now was related to our house suffering several unnatural quakes?

I didn't get the chance for a fourth thought. Danny tugged on my arm as the strange sound from earlier filled both of our ears. It grew louder and louder, until it sounded like it was coming from right above us.

Through the hole in the ceiling, I saw a metallic aircraft come into view. No, aircraft wasn't the right word. No aircraft was dark green with a lime windshield and red orbs on the wings, or looked like a manta ray in terms of overall design, or could hover right above our house with no effort at all. Whatever this was, it was definitely a UFO.

A screech ripped through the air, like the world's largest intercom turning on.

_PROTECTOR OF EARTH. YOU WILL SURRENDER, OR WE WILL OPEN FIRE ON YOUR TERRITORY._

__It wasn't until I saw Danny's panicked face that I realized they hadn't spoken in English. Somehow, some way, I could understand their language too, and not just their writing._ _

__I didn't know what they meant by territory, though. Did they mean Earth? North America? The USA?_ _

__"Danny, you play alien video games, right?"_ _

__"Yeah, why?"_ _

__I relayed what they had said to him. "So, since I only know their language and not their culture, what do you think they mean by territory?"_ _

__"If I had to guess, I'd say either Virginia or our neighborhood." He made a face. "Neither option sounds good, though."_ _

__My eyes narrowed at the ship overhead. I only knew a few people in my neighborhood, but they were dear to my heart. The rest were mere acquaintances. Still, no way was I letting alien invaders blow it all up just so they could play Dr. Frankenstein with what was left._ _

__The problem was, I didn't know if I could even reach up there, much less take on an entire ship._ _

__One of the orbs began to glow, sending a laserlike beam exploding out of it. It rocketed down towards the right of our house, a muffled explosion echoing from where it hit. A scream pierced my ears, but as I ran to the window, it was silenced by another beam._ _

_LET THIS BE A WARNING. SURRENDER NOW, OR FACE OUR WRATH._

I stopped short when I saw what was before me. A man lay sprawled in the middle of the street, the lower half of his body lying some distance away. He'd been blown apart. His dog, unsure as to what had happened, pawed desperately at his unmoving chest before collapsing. The burns covering its entire body had taken their fatal toll.

____Tears dripped down my face as I lowered my head, mourning those who I'd never met._ _ _ _

____When I raised my head again, my grief turned to rage. The energy in my veins increased, pulsing in time with the fury I felt. A wave roared in my ears, drowning out everything but the here and now._ _ _ _

____They would pay. If it took every breath in my body, they would pay for what they had done._ _ _ _


End file.
